


Vagabonds

by Amanuesis



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character(s) of Color, Coming of Age, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Love Triangles, Mentor/Protégé, Multi, Original Character Death(s), Polygamy, Pregnancy, Rivalry, Slow Burn, Underage Sex, Yuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:14:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 48,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25498915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amanuesis/pseuds/Amanuesis
Summary: "D-do you...love him?" the girl-child breathed, a familiar saline wetness desperately clinging to charcoal lashes."No, not in the way that you think you do, Rin-chan.""Then why in Kami's name do you even go to him at night! W-why does he even keep you...in his home? Why does he call on y-you...". The "instead of me" was silent, but understood. No matter what she could have said, the young woman would never satisfy the adolescent girl's pointed inquiries."I am only temporary," was the only thing the demoness could murmur, "Vagabonds, wanderers, beggars. We take whatever homes are offered."
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s), Rin (InuYasha)/Original Character(s), Rin/Sesshoumaru (InuYasha), Sesshoumaru (InuYasha)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 27





	1. Plague

**Author's Note:**

> If you don’t like seeing canons with OCs, this may not be for you.
> 
> Some dark and angsty themes, and exploration of the different "kinds" of love & debunking the big question: "what really is love?". Situated iPost-The Final Act, three years after the end of TFA. AU/canon divergent. 
> 
> I do not own Inuyasha or any characters, otherwise I'd be rich, baby.

* * *

" _D-do you..._ love _him?" the girl-child breathed, a familiar saline wetness desperately clinging to charcoal lashes._

_The demoness nipped at the rehearsed phrase, clenching and holding at her own words before they could dribble from her tongue._

_"No," she exhaled, "Not in the way that you_ think _you do, Rin-chan."_

_The girl visibly recoiled at the young woman's use of the endearing honorific._

_It was a slap in the face, a final farce for the mentorship_ — _dare say_ sisterhood— _that they had once shared._

" _Then_ why _in Kami's name do you even go to him at night?"_ _The airborne taste of salty tears overshadowed the shriek of words._

 _Wetness now freely escaped to meet painted rouge on her cheekbone, propagating streaks of pink waste. "W-why does he even keep you...in_ his _home?_ _Why does he call on_ y-you _..."_

 _The_ "instead of me" _was silent, but understood._

_No matter what she could have said, the young woman would never satisfy the adolescent girl's pointed inquiries. She could only turn cerulean eyes away from wide-eyed accusations._

" _I am only temporary," was the only thing the demoness could murmur,_ _"Vagabonds, wanderers, beggars. We take whatever homes are offered."_

* * *

"Land feels good beneath the toes."

The feel, the very sensation of turf under boots was almost foreign after what seemed like days — _no, perhaps weeks, the way that felt_ — of flight. It was much a different sensation than the forceful wind curling against cheek and lips, muscles shifting beneath thighs, and the slick feathers of the focused _simurgh_ , her winged beast and companion, tangled in her claws.

The older woman opted for a more genteel, inconspicuous method of transportation, using their last leg of travel to transition from the great black mass of fur in the twilight sky to a beautiful lady perched on a water vessel.

No matter their method of travel, they both sat under the shade of the large elm tree. _Keyaki_. Her mother had reminded her of its' indigenous name, in this foreign tongue she had once mastered. They sat in peace, a brief moment to rest now they had carefully arrived in one piece and limited reason for defense.

"Do you smell the air? It will be fresh with rain soon," fell from worn, but full umber lips, tone tinged with what could be visible whimsy, "We must go find shelter soon and prepare for the visit. Daiyoukai cannot be visited without preparation."

Her mother's command of the foreign word held a consistent, almost velvet pour of milk and honey; her voice was of the variety that could drizzle either precious nourishment or barbed contempt into ears.

Amber eyes studied the young woman who sat brusquely next to her, rubbing her knee through dirtied linen pants. She could smell the sweat, the need for sleep, the quiet flame of irritation beaming from the braided blonde next to her.

"I see you've made acquaintance with the earth and soil," continued the mother, pressing her fatigued daughter to participate in the banter. "The beauty of a new land, yes?"

Opaque rich brown brows furrowed at the words, immediately curdling any sweet liquid in her mother's words.

" _Beauty?"_ the younger woman had scoffed. "Constant pilgrimage and movement is _a plague_ , mother", she sighed, sweeping a misplaced curl from her countenance.

Plagues not only decimated populations and human ecosystems, but also the promise of more, or just even slightly better circumstances. Standing in this new, vaguely unfamiliar land, the novelty, and rush from post to pillar certainly made constant feelings of readjustment a plague in her life.

"Pilgrimage will always have its' purposes, my pup," cooed the sharp boned woman.

With the brush of an elegant dusky hand, the woman could only hope to sweep her eldest daughter's skepticism in the same motion of the usual caress of her beige cheekbones. The soft pout on her daughter deepened.

"I'm not a pup," she murmured, as if to chide and demonstrate mature resistance to her mother's sudden affection, "Not anymore, at least."

It was better than a grooming lick or nuzzle.

Oda always found her mother's disposition to be a case study of irony. What should have been a demon hardened in centuries of irreplaceable loss, rejection, coerced decisions and rootless migration, instead was her mother.

In her own centuries of existence, she was privy to her mother's oscillation between protective and indulgent maternal nature, thirst for novelty, and evident prying interest in mortal humans. These intricate details puzzled the eldest half-demon daughter.

"Plague or not, it is where we are," her mother continued, her whisper still plump with well-contained, intimate enthusiasm, childish excitement buzzing just beneath the cool surface. Before she could speak, perhaps superficially affirm and thus interrupt her mother's thoughts, her mother recounted being there — _no, here_ — only a few centuries before. Oda could only close her eyes, letting long, brunette lashes graze freckled, tan skin.

"—His father, the poor wretch, is nothing but bones now. And scraps of his estate probably devoured by _human_ heirs," Her mother continued, a hint of cheek in her tone. "Imagine the scandal if we darkened their doorstep". Oda was only half-listening.

"Anyway, any domicile is where there is freedom, and freedom lives where there is a home," her mother breathed, watching orchestrated movements of another figure in the distance. A teenaged boy, with appearances of a human on the cusp of boyhood and manhood, with almost ivory skin ventured towards them, news of abandoned shelter, bath and sustenance on his lips.

Her mother's chimerical sentiments of wanderers relishing in their unrestricted freedom of movement, narrowly annoyed Oda, sitting marginally short of the threshold of disgust and resentment.

 _Freedom is_ not _why this is home._ Oda mentally bit into her tongue, wanting to divulge her latest internal quip to the older woman. But she chose not to; there was no need to do so. Everyone in their small party knew why they were there. _No, Here._

Oda's brow furrowed more. Demons —whether full, three quarters or half — did not move; everything moved around them. They could afford to be unconcerned with effects of war, disaster, famine and plague: those were the trifle of the humans. Untouchable in their places, they could pick and choose their lives; the humans were at the mercy of their Gods and fate, not demons.

Yet, their concern was raised when _they_ , the humans began to reject their presence. From the living vessels of respected deities, to the idolatrous harbingers of misfortune. The pedestal was toppled from underneath them. 

_And now, here we are_.

"The politics of fools," her mother would shrug, the subtext of human men evident in her words; indifference varnished over the pain of leaving behind another land.

Her mother often said _this_ was _not_ unfamiliar for herself: she could not put a specific number to either being expelled or expelling herself from a land she knew as home. But it was not the first, nor last as she would almost tastelessly jest.

Her first time was almost voluntary, a chance to venture past the drab sand and sahel, into the colorful world of green earth, blue sea, and even white-cold wind. On her first exodus, she left with no haste, only carrying youthful excitement, both her engraved _zaġāya_ and _takoba_ —one forged from the tail of a scorpion demon, the other the fang of a jackal — and protection offerings from humans and fellow demons alike.

The journey brought her mother across tribes, nations and continents: first slightly northeast, then up, up, up, towards far north, then back southward and central, and then east, _far_ east.

Her mother's second exodus, from the bare-bone north, had given her the first taste of bitter rejection, a forged iron _skegg_ ø _x,_ and a strong female pup with white-gold ringlets strapped to her breast. The third exodus, from east to west, gave her a sickly male pup with clashing, strong tiger-orange eyes, another sword, and a personal appreciation for the cherry blossoms and fine silk of the inhabitants.

The fourth exodus was of her own volition, simply for the safety of her two responsibilities: the land was no location for where two half-demon bastards and one fertile bitch were heard and welcome. Certainly not a bitch and half-breeds that had different fathers —neither of them proper mates — as well as unfamiliar colorings, hailing from an unfamiliar land.

The fifth, the sixth and seventh were voluntary too, following the scent of perfume, spices and novelty along a road that ran east to west, until she settled in another land with a much far away language. The place she settled was a warm blooded; it felt like the home of her youth. Skin of all swarthy shades, tolerance for demons in their rightful symbiosis with humans, as merciful providers, healers, diviners, and living connections between life and death, gods and spirits.

"Mother, _Odette_ , I think it'll rain soon. We must go."

Oda flicked open her blue-green eyes at the sound of the adolescent; it was not his words nor meaning, but rather the use of her pet name rolling off his tongue. She looked up at the pearl colored boy with orange, maple-colored eyes. She could only hide a playful smirk as she noticed his hand readied on the dagger on his belt, eyes looking past the tree for any threats.

"I found shelter — abandoned, of course. There is water nearby we can heat up for a bath, and plenty of game to hunt," continued the boy.

Although neither eldest nor youngest, neither boy nor full grown into his power, as male of his pack, her brother Kazuo believed he was charged with the protection of his mother, and sisters.

Yet, he was sickly, a product of an unfortunate pairing with a human male from the very strange soil they now sat upon. This pairing bore a child that was more human than demon, lacking the fine smell, hearing and defensive claws of a half-breed. 

_Hanyō_ , she was told that their kind, the kind with an amalgamation of human and supernatural blood were called that term.

"We will go soon. I had just told your sister we must venture to a suitable shelter soon, and rest. Then we visit the _daiyoukai_ of these lands," her mother soothed.

The boy cocked his brow, and let out a disapproving sound. "Hm, we shan't need permission to remain here in these lands," he sniffed, "Why, there's enough space and land for everyone."

Oda and her mother almost exchanged knowing glances, their amusement went unnoticed by the boy.

"That may be so, but it would be terribly rude to encroach without a proper introduction," her mother firmly stated, her amber eyes glowering at her son with amusement, much at his bravery and commitment to protecting them.

"An introduction should not require prostration," Kazuo cut back, "Nor gifts."

"The only gifts we bear are that of Mother's droll conversation," Oda contributed with a light smirk on her face.

"And my swords," Kazuo grumbled, heartlessly kicking a pebble with an ant on it away from the feminine figures under the tree.

"Don't worry, son", her mother finally broke, "Before your birth, I briefly met one of the ruling _daiyoukai_ , a female and her pup — no older than you are now. They are the same as us, just a different coloring."

"Good, that means I can expect civility and will not have to use my weapons," smoothly replied her brother.

 _That you can barely yield, brother._ Oda knew better than to openly tease her younger brother when he was in this kind of mood. But it was truth. She herself was a better swordsman than he, and she rarely had reason to take to the sword. And she had other senses and skills of a half-demoness.

She could only wonder if her brother's overprotectiveness and princely nature was innate, true to demon blood, or feigned to assert his dominance in the role for upcoming alpha. While Oda did not have the immediate and apparent physicality of a _hanyō_ on first glance, a wide grin — _not that she ever really smiled_ — could only reveal elongated canines and claws that lengthened and retracted over the course of the moon cycle. Her senses and strength were almost as keen as those of her own mother.

 _Well, I don't think I have ever seen Mother ever have to use her claws, or fight_ , she thought. Not physically, and not certainly for what some people would regard as pride and honor. Her mother was a well-versed companion at best, a whorish pet to some, and a succubus in the worst imaginations — not a warrior.

Her mother was strong, indeed. But a fighter? No, her mother was a purposeful nomad, flitting from irresolute situations with her children in her front view. Everything was done for them.

And now, her mother survived yet another exodus, this time touting a third _hanyō_ pup, a young female with obsidian waves that covered her head and fluttering animal ears, appearing as no more than a girl of six or seven human years. The young one had been resting gently in the ink black of her mother's remnant fur, but now stirred.

In the land they left, sentiments to her mother's presence as the bewitching esteemed companion changed quickly. It could only be expected: humans were fickle and abandoned their spiritual and religious ideologies as quickly as they adopted them. Her mother was no longer a proverbial deity on earth; she was a beguiling demon sent to seduce men of power, bearing three abominations.

One waxing moon, as her monthly blood came, the two sat. Her mother could only swallow a resentful chuckle as she recounted her many paths to her eldest daughter, remarking the irony that a similar fate befell her with Oda's own human father.

"Your sister is awake. Let us get to the shelter and rest, Kazuo."

 _Rest for the upcoming performance for this daiyoukai figure, no doubt,_ Oda thought.

The vagrants rose to their feet; her mother coddling the still stirring child, her brother commanding the winged beast with their belongings to follow suit. At first, it seemed only Oda had caught the faint whiff of energy that charged the air.

The exchange of an omniscient glance with her mother confirmed her suspicion.

There are other demons nearby. _Youkai_ , the strange word echoed in her inner mind. These woods now exude, practically breathing their energy. Did they not notice before? They must expedite their exodus to safety. She could only be her mother's daughter — not a fighter, just a purposeful nomad.

Oda could only conclude that their vagabond status was indeed a familial plague, as she trudged to the discovered hut. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Hope y'all like this. I've been so nervous to post -- I'm literally just getting back into watching Inuyasha, as we gear up for the sequel in the fall. There's too many what-ifs and ten whole years between the end of TFA and this upcoming sequel, so hopefully we get some answers when it comes out.
> 
> But until then, I'm impatient asf and writing this bad boy with a heavy hand of assumptions + imagination. First assumption is that Japan couldn't have been the only place with demons and spirits just flying around, all free and stuff. I'd imagine various cultures/countries from the Early/Middle Ages to the 16th century probably had their own perspectives around gods, demons + the supernatural. So, those attitudes probably dictated human-demon interactions. I also tried to integrate some historically accurate mythology, religion, clothes and objects. 
> 
> In alignment with the theme "what really is love?", expect plenty of angst, growing pains and unpacking of the different kinds of love among the characters in future chapters: platonic love in friendship, familial love between siblings and parents, lust/erotic love, possessive love and selfless love.


	2. Discomfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She first felt the ache in her chest, an odd melange of pangs, beats and timed flutters that reverberated to her delicate stomach. She could not put name to such sensations, but she knew it was him that caused her affliction. 
> 
> Then, it seemed as if one night, it shifted. The pangs and flutters in her abdomen shamefully crept to her most private places. In the dead of night, it pulsated like a beacon, screaming, blaring and begging for a long heated push, until it could scream no more and released with the pressure of her own small hands.
> 
> In the sweet bliss of evening, the moonlight strong in its’ veil across her writhing body, Rin could only pine and wish it was her Lord’s fingers that silenced the blare instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Sess/Rin (Implied), Sess/OC (Implied), Lime, Underage Masturbation. Just lot’s of implied.

* * *

_“Believe it or not — I'm now privy to why he took_ your _company instead, sister._ _”_

_Kazou spat the words as if they were dirt in his jaw, the very sound of dear older sister oozing derision like a pustering wound._

_Hot discomfort had long been a guest to Oda’s face, only partially obscured by the soft ochre of her skin._

_He had caught her trying to wash off the deed, yet_ his _scent still adhered to every intimate curve and nook of the young woman's form._

_Her younger brother was dejected at how the great Lord of the Western Lands brushed him aside._

_Apparently, the Lord did need not any more impractical wards: the imp, once feral girl-child and taijiya, were already enough for the Lord._

_His most gracious Lord's patience already stretched in allowing both female hanyō to call herself companion and mentor to_ his _Rin. Calling upon the service of the eldest female was simply a price paid for such an act of generosity._

_Ultimately, the opportunity for Kazou to serve as an apprentice was denied, his barely hanyō blood unworthy of such fine, noble technique. Instead, he was left to apprentice with the male taijiya and brash, unrefined hanyō in the miko's village._

_Regardless, Oda did not know what to say. What could soothe such resentment?_

Sorry? Sorry that he took me instead, she thought. Yes, _took_ me.

No, no, took something _from_ me. No, that’s only half of the truth.

 _She gives to him too, willingly_.

_He could smell her raw shame, and could only look away. Not from her partial nudity — he had seen the womanly form so many times before, on his sister, his mother, and now an appreciative human lover waiting for him in the village._

_Her brother softened, in face only. She couldn’t detect, just couldn’t sniff out if his tone was filled with repulsion, veiled astonishment, injured pride, loss of respect, pity for who she had become._

_“You_ are _your mother’s daughter.”_

_Maybe, she had not become something else. Rather, it was something she had always been. She sat with that discomfort, now a permanent fixture on her body, like the bite wound gnawing at her neck._

* * *

It was nights like these that she found herself unable to properly rest, body teeming with electric pulses of excitement for the next day.

In the quiet of the hut —save the soft breathing of the old half-blind woman in the other room, a good sign she had not yet passed — her heart and body beat with deafening activity.

She was just so... _excited._

Oh, yes. In only a few hours, after day has broken and could stand under the beaming morning sun, she would be reunited with the two headed beast of burden; even the prospect of seeing that cantankerous green imp buzzed in her inner eye.

But the sight she craved the most was for the silver daiyoukai to touch fine boots on the soil. He was at his most beautiful in the morning light, she had always thought.

 _“Have you been a good girl, Rin-chan?”_ he would rumble and accept her rambunctious squeeze around his muscular frame.

Over the last few years, his visits to the miko’s village were the peak of her days. He would come every rest day, after the chores, tasks and training of the following days were complete. Once she knew he would visit, her mind was only set on him. 

She had even neglected, or at least been less vigilant of the tasks on days preceding his visit — to which the one-eyed _miko_ scolded her for.

Even in her adolescent age of fourteen —just on the cusp of feudal womanhood— she very much anticipated their set meetings. The very structure and integrity of their play time had not shifted from when she was a girl-child.

Finding a semi-private spot, he would present small trinkets, kindly inquire about her training and life in the village, and silently bask in the air she and Jakken would fill with endless prattle: innocent questions, tales of the Lord’s triumph and encounters —she had learned to never insult the Lord by calling them _battles_ — with lesser youkai, factoids straight from the pages of the time-traveling miko’s strange books, and playful arguments. It would be hours of just them, the daiyoukai listlessly following her ramblings.

The morning light would slip higher into the sky, then as it lowered, he would rise, a simple gesture for her and the imp to follow. She would talk the entire journey back to the simple home. It wasn’t until he nodded and took to the air that she understood their time together had passed, initiating a new cycle of waiting and wanting.

It was not just the want for his warm-hearted trinkets, neutral questions, and glacial smirk that she burned for. 

She first felt the ache in her chest, an odd melange of pangs, beats and timed flutters that reverberated to her delicate stomach. She could not put name to such sensations, but she _knew_ it was _him_ that caused her affliction. 

The way claws would delicately scratch her palm as he held her hand in guidance, scented platinum strands brushing against her forehead as they would sit underneath the protective shade of nature. Gold eyes reading pass her the words on her rosy lips. Soft skin when her lips would brush childish, but loving pecks on his cheek or hand.

She could only gnaw at her own tongue, wondering what _it_ would feel like to place the fumbling, quick kisses on his lips instead.

Then, it seemed as if one night, _it_ shifted. The pangs and flutters in her abdomen shamefully crept to her most private places. In the dead of night, _it_ pulsated like a beacon, screaming, blaring and _begging_ for a long heated push, until it could scream no more and released with the pressure of her own small hands.

In the sweet bliss of evening, the moonlight strong in its’ veil across her writhing body, Rin could only pine and wish it was her Lord’s fingers that silenced the blare instead.

* * *

“ _Ummi_ , the water is too cold,” squeaked the pup, damp dark ears furiously twitching at the assault of lukewarm water on her skin. Oda could only peer at her younger sister, chalking it up to youthful complaints.

Her mother seemed to ignore the calls of her youngest pup, her concerted effort fixed on another conversation with her brother, Kazuo.

“Shiraz, it was _you_ that elected for your own bath,” Oda quipped to the whining pup, punctuated with a gentle, playful splash. “It would be half as frigid if you bathed with Mother or I.”

The words made the slick wet pup slide further down in the rusted basin with a huff. Despite rolling them up, the silk of Oda’s sleeves were damp as she dutifully scrubbed the restless pup.

“How can you be so sure, _mother_?” the air cut with a distinct male voice. “You have not been here in eons.”

“One can never be sure of what another will do,” her mother continued, carefully staggering her words, “But, I am hopeful. We are of no threat to them in our position.”

Oda peered over at her mother and brother in conversation. She furrowed her brow at her mother’s flippant tone. “Hope doesn’t provide much surety,” she half-chimed in her usual murmur, delicate hands still autonomously working at her task in the water. 

For all of his hyper-vigilance, her brother was correct this time, fears well justified. They had fled these lands before, when she was merely a walking pup and her brother still a suckling at her mother’s breast. 

_"Odette_ is right,” her brother sniffed, “How do we know _these_ demons will not attack? Nonetheless treat you - no, _us_ as welcome guests?”

“As I said, we do not know,” their mother insisted, a mere iota of displeasure tinged her words. Underneath cool words, her demon ire stoked at the very act of reiteration, yet it was masked with the prepared honey of her voice.

“Nearly a century or two is _not_ enough time to forget my face nor story, her mother sniffed, narrow amber eyes challenging her child’s pressing questions "Also, my doubts are that they would reject the service of their own kind.”

“ _Bah!_ Only _you_ would believe we can go from one master to another with such little concern,” the boy snarled, sinking back into the thin wall with folded arms and perplexed look. 

The sound of his defiance sparked the rough scent of clear annoyance, accompanying a low growl emitted from their mother.

The children evaded their mother’s gaze. She was still their alpha. Who were these pups to doubt her leadership?

Her own children stumped her at times; she did not understand the foundations of their consistent probes. 

Why did they question her so? Did she not know the nature of her own fellow _édi-alšin_? Inuyoukai were simple creatures with very little pretense; what was difficult to understand?

No doubt it was their human blood that made them so investigative; however, she could not blame them. Humans rarely could divine reasonable answers. Also, did they not know she had sent an emissary to the daiyoukai before? A loyal human servant who wished to taste her essence, a male of course. The return of a human molar confirmed that this ruling daiyoukai would accept an initial audience of fealty.

The siblings exchanged a glance. The lack of concern in their mother’s voice puzzled her older children. No doubt it was her demon nature, impassive and apathetic to anything that did not raise personal concern. 

“Would they not ridicule us?” her brother asked, exasperation in his tone. 

Her mother was unmoved by the very inkling of derision and a cold shoulder. Did they not live in _de facto_ exile? Centuries of rejection should not impassion her children so. For all of her fondness of humans, their mother did not understand how their human blood drove them to such fearful conclusions.

“That is likely,” she breathed out, “The goal is to be permitted to live at our deserved station in the lands, not well-liked in their personal sentiments.”

Oda also did not fully understand her brother’s worry of disparagement. No doubt, they had heard it all. Even in the most tolerant lands, their presence drew lilted gossip and looks of suspicion, sometimes ire. She was the eldest of a hanyō brood, sired by a demoness only half as skilled in her guardianship over demonic weapons as she was in lovemaking and courtesan duties.

She knew that such designations were dressed-up ways to say she was the half-breed daughter of a whore; many other supernatural beings regarded her mother as a glorified lapdog, and a succubus to humans. No matter the venom in which the words came, she remained dispassionate to simple insults.

Enduring a few scathing words meant little; it was the personal cost of living at the station of an acknowledged daughter of the chief courtesan of a high-ranking _sardar_.

Oda felt a tug at her rolled sleeve. Damn, she had almost forgot about the pup, her hands limply trailing in the now murky water that now purified four demons; typically, the female pup bathed with her mother or sister, when they had access to sprawling bath houses, brimmed with nude women from all reaches of their former lands. 

But, this time, the brash pup demanded her own luxurious soak in the small offhand basin, even if it meant swirling in the grime and dirt of her elders.

“ _Būbū_ , big sister, _why_ did you stop scratching my ears,” the wet pup yipped, forcefully nudging for bigger, stronger claws to gently dig at the twitching triangles on her scalp. 

Oda could only oblige the sooty-furred youth, a restful beam cracked the often neutral expression on her face. 

“How do you say big sister in this language?” inquired the pup, reaching a foot from the water then submerged it. 

“Uhm, it almost sounds like my name,” replied the older sister, brows knit in an attempt to sound out the foreign tongue. Oda had learned to speak many in her lifetime: Persian, Arabic, tongues of the Ottomans, Mongols, Uigyurs, Circassians, Chaldeans, Chinese, and even bits and pieces of her mother’s native tongue. They would surely learn this one. _Oneesan, right?_

“It’s pronounced awn-nay-san? I...don’t think I know exactly,” replied the elder sister.

“Aw-nay-san ow-duh,” exaggerated the pup, giggling through half of her pronunciation, “Nah! — I’ll just keep calling you _būbū_.”

The pup had settled, preferring the smooth _lingua franca_ of her father’s language.

“You know that is fine with me, Shiraz,” the elder sister responded, eyes darting over to the two figures sitting by the makeshift hearth, trading stilted whispers about another subject. 

“You know, būbū,” the pup began to whisper as well. Oda supposed the habits they picked up from humans were odd; their hearing was excellent. “They’ve talked alot about this visit. How do you think the daiyoukai will be?”

“They are supposed to be grand demons, great white dog demons. So, I would think them to be...understanding. Or so, I would hope.”

“I wouldn’t be,” the pup sneered. “Not with the offerings we have.”

Even as blood sisters, they were an example of contrast and comparisons in both physical and emotional form — her youthful sister with black silk framing ecru skin, and she herself an even sand from the blondish coils to toes the color of dry wheat.

They had both been raised to give breath to truth, yet her younger sister showed audacity and brashness in her truth-telling, even in this young age; Oda spoke stilted truths in her silent, yet heavy expressions. 

She was right. They had left with barely any clothing, nonetheless precious treasures or tokens. It’d be unwise to gift these powerful lords mere trifles. 

Her eyes drifted to the dark coffer chest in the corner, scrawling words of protection and charm inlaid across her mother’s weaponry. Perhaps, it would be even more unwise to gift priceless treasures. 

“Are you two almost done?” Their mother’s flat voice broke through, “It is almost time for bed.”

Her brother exuded a stifled yawn and sat upright by the broken screen door; he would keep watch for the better half of the night. 

The two children wasted no time in finishing their activity, and the nude pup jumped from the basin. Despite Oda’s attempt to swoop in with a thick drying linen, the nude pup shook large droplets in all directions, narrowly missing the fire.

“ _Stop_ that,” their mother pronounced flatly, cutting amber eyes to the child in clear disdain of the activity.

“Oh, She’ll grow out of it, Mother,” Oda suggested lightly, swooping in once again to protect the pup, eliciting a soft nuzzle into her thigh.

“Hm,” their mother signaled, “It is of no matter. Come get dressed for bed, little one.”

Their mother rarely acknowledged her baser tones. In her older age, Oda knew to give her mother’s occasional flat affect little of her thought, but she could imagine that the young pup did not. It was of no matter, the nude child bounded into a fine linen shift, a simple _kamiz_. 

To bed, Oda went. They needed to be up tomorrow to see whether or not these great demon nobles would accept them in these strange lands.

The cold dirt ground only echoed her discomfort of tomorrow, and the inevitable changes tomorrow could bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s give it up for chapter 2 -- whoot whoot! Yes, we’re building up some tension and ish. But, here's a glossary on foreign words in the FF. 
> 
> būbū = big sister, in Ancient/Classical Persian  
> édi-alšin = dog demon, in Tamasheq/Berber  
> kamiz = a tunic in Classical Persian/Farsi,  
> ummi = mommy, in Arabic  
> sardar = a high-ranking noble with indirect blood ties (e.g., cousin) to emperor/king, in Classical Persian/Farsi


	3. Initial Infection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This Sesshomaru does not find the current females to be suitable mentors for his ward. They are tasked with one purpose of teaching the child practical human skills, and cannot even perform this well. This Sesshomaru will simply find another."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings/Pairings: Sess/Rin, Sess/OC, No real warnings except Inukimi cameo

_He could always trace out the outline of her womanly curves, even in her most modest yukata._

_At first, he had made many attempts to pay her little notice; he possessed a strange self-glory in how he rarely was even cognizant of the girl, only sparing a few exchanges and stabs at glib conversation._

_He could admit he found some amusement in observing the strange half-demoness, using his senses to ascertain the very substance of the woman._

_Her scent was one of the first particularities that piqued his gaze. He found that when the sakura trees blossomed, he found her scent in the air too._

_A fragrant bouquet with an arid finish, like forgotten flowers plucked from their vine, spending the twilight of their life in the hair of a lover. Fresh, with a bittersweet nip and arid quality._

_It was from her scent, her odor of fertility and womanhood, that he could engage her with his sight._

_The once unrefined, unattractive duskiness — at least that is what he had told himself — of her strange coloring now resembled gold. The over-dominance of bright water-colored eyes meeting his own were now welcome pools to drink from._

_Unfamiliar, flamboyant blue dress was acknowledged as the indigo, brocade bodice of her traditional garments, which punctuated every single curve like wet silk._

_Once unsophisticated, accidental slips of ill-fitting yukata became acts of serendipity, allowing his gaze access to freckles inking her tanned shoulders and back._

_His two senses alone were inundated, a straight shot to rouse the sleeping beast, the base instinct within. But, it wasn’t enough._

_When his eyes and nose had their fill, his tongue and claws wanted their opportunity to indulge._

_He wanted to_ devour _her._

 _And as_ her _Lord of the Western Lands, he would._

* * *

Daybreak had come and went, and with the high morning sun, ascended the very white-haired protector in his otherworldly flesh.

The demon barely set one boot-clad foot on the earth before the wild adolescent ran unabashedly for him. 

“Sesshomaru-sama!”

Her charge was stopped short of the hobbling imp scrambling from his lord’s fur, creating a physical barrier between Rin and her pearlescent guardian. 

“ _Ack_! — all these years and still no manners!” Jaken shook the staff in his hand menacingly. But it did nothing to deter the ventilating girl, as she felt the hot gaze of the gentle lord peer curiously down at her.

“Rin—” 

“Yes, yes, Lord Sesshomaru, I’ve been good! Now, le—” the young teen giggled. She knew the rehearsed line, giddy to hear the words slink from his mouth. She memorized his sound, the silk baritone in his voice. In the cover of night, she could replay her name dripping from his lips.

The imp shrieked. “Don’t _you_ interrupt his Lord, you ill-mannered—“. He shrieked again, this time in the pain of the Lord’s boot connecting between two large amphibious eyes, eliciting a giddy snigger from the girl. Serves him right! 

“Jaken, _shut up_ ,” the Lord of the Western Lands hissed, the words accentuated with the swift kick, just before turning his gaze back to the girl.

“Rin, I was iterating the need for you to calm down. We have all day for your excitement—”

The girl looked at her feet. “Oh.” Was he so easily displeased with her?

Sesshomaru sensed the girls’ sudden reticence, and offered additional words. 

“—in which I look forward to.”

Sesshomaru was simply surprised at how quickly the child swiveled the soured mood to a beam of joy. With such joy, she took his hand and nudged him along to their preferred place in the woods. The brush clearing was not far from the simple miko’s hut, but it was far enough from the boisterous annoyance of a certain hanyō and the time-traveling miko.

Rin was ever aware of how Inuyasha grated at her Lord’s often unmovable nerve; her loyalty was forever with her Lord, thus she did her best to distance herself from the oft-irate hanyō. Though that was no easy task, as the _de facto_ apprentice of his miko wife and mate.

As they sat in the tall grass against the tree, Rin launched into her weekly account of her apprenticeship, mentioning Kagome and Kaede’s teachings of potions, spiritual spells and oh— even cooking. The fox boy filled her in on his exams, though she barely knew what the purpose of fox magic was outside of tricks and illusions. Oh, Kohaku visited sometimes, mostly to visit his sis—

“Oh, oh, how could I forget! Sango-san and Miroku-san are expecting another blessing from _Kami_.”

Sesshomaru raised a delicate brow.

“The tajiya and the monk,” Rin clarified, swallowing excitement as she noticed his lack of response. “They‘re, uh, having another baby.”

“ _Feh!_ Children are a nuisance! Babies? E _ven_ worse,” Jaken announced from his spot, strategically out of the reach of his lord and master.

“I would know,” he further grumbled, rubbing tenderly at his forehead as he peered directly at the girl. 

Rin didn’t miss the imp’s insinuation, competing with his glower with her own scowl. “They are a _blessing_ ,” she shot back, “Miracles from the great gods themselves.”

“ _Tuh_ — who told you that foolishness,” the imp scoffed.

“Kagome di—”

Sesshomaru wheeled his narrowed amber eyes at Rin, and she almost lost her breath. 

“So, the time-traveling miko has been entrusted as a _worthy_ source for discussing...bearing children,” his voice cut through, painted with just an ounce of _something_. 

Rin couldn’t quite place it, but he seemed almost _displeased_. Not with her, though: was he irritated that Inuyasha’s wife had been the one to educate her?

“Well, uh, I-I-I, uh, have helped Kagome and Kaede deliver...two babies now,” she stated in a series of gulps, “One Sango’s, and the other belonging to a woman in the village.” 

The answer seemed to satisfy the Lord, as he sat back to the tree, flickering his eyes to the stream that laid ahead. 

“Hm. Finish your story.”

She had previously told the Lord before of her participation in midwifery. Granted, she only held the water and ran for tools. 

Oh, and she did feel faint the second time, too, when the woman’s skin ripped from her birthing hole to her excretory hole — Rin had to go take relief of her duties and lay down on a mat. 

Or maybe, she had fainted and Inuyasha had to carry her back to her room in the hut, slumped over his shoulder like a useless fresh kill.

But did her Lord think of her as _so_ naïve? She _knew_ how babies were made! It was in the cover of night, when a man’s eel — erect with nothing but the purest love — visited a woman’s cave. 

“Well, it _is_ their fourth child,” she continued, the streamlet of water serving as the only noise. She had rarely noticed before how silent her part-time companions were, how she filled the heavy space with so much of her speech.

“Uh, they must love each other very very much to have another baby.”

The statement again brought a strange look to her Lord’s face, a slight frown darkening his marvelous face. 

“The miko has taught you that it is _love_ that brings children,” he drawled, sharp with the knife of annoyance.

 _That cursed miko._ What knowledge did she truly have about children? Besides knowledge of the lewd acts —no doubt under his slobbering brother— that preceded them?

The Lord detected the flash of apprehension in the girl’s scent, prompting a venture to shift his tone and face. He did not wish for his ward to interpret herself as the cause of his chagrin.

“Do you have knowledge of what love is or could be, Rin?” He inquired evenly, arms crossed as he awaited her answer.

The ears on the young girl burned hot. The child knew what the word was. But the feeling? Was it in the language of the softening glances her Lord plied her with? The manner she would watch the monk bring smooth newborn infant fingers to his lips with a knowing smile? 

Or was it the tongue of heated kisses she saw between two villagers at the tavern? Was it in the reverberation of fervent moans of the young miko and hanyō from down the hall?

“Uhm, it’s uh, well it feels like, I mean i-it is ...indescribable, really. You just feel it for someone,” she gulped, stumbling through her deep, even shameful thoughts. How could she look so naive to her Lord?

“Hm. Someone?” He inflected, taking one stroke of a long claw along his chin.

Her quick jump in her heart almost cracked against her ribcage; surely the whole world could hear her breathing.

 _Do you love me, Rin-chan?_ She waited for the phrase to drip from his mouth.

Sesshomaru sensed her alarm. She had no smell of another male on her, so there was no secret of a lover looming. Perhaps a simple infatuation, one that he could only hope was not the monk, or worse, his half-wit brother.

“Do you love anyone in this village?”

Was he to tease her before he said those words?

“Yes!” 

His brows raised in suspense, sharps eyes wheeling at the child.

“No, no, wait, I mean, uh yes — but as friends!” Her thoughts swirled with the kindness of her miko mentors, the tajiya and monk, even the surly hanyō.

The Lord once again relaxed. From his purview, the child clearly had no semblance of love, nonetheless how children are conceived. It was certainly not love. It was a duty between man and woman to bring, an almost animalistic force. Perhaps love allowed these _ningen_ to care for a child, but it was not what created them.

“You love your friends? These villagers?” He inquired, tugging at a neutral tone to further probe. 

“ _Hai_ , Sesshomaru-sama.”

“So, tell me how is it that a man and woman make their child with love, and one can love their friends? Am I to be led to believe this is the same love.”

“I—I, uhm, I don’t know.”

She had no direct answer, it felt out of her fourteen year command of language. She only had what she felt in the day around these friends, and what she felt in his presence and the creeping dark. All of it was love.

_If only he knew what I think of, what I feel at night._

Sesshomaru found his internal disapproving frown deepening with every series of responses. He acknowledged Rin was no longer the dirty child who stumbled upon him bleeding, vulnerable in the thicket — six years from that time, the girl-child sat on the precipice of womanhood. Her first blood would come soon, and perhaps a husband and children inevitably after. Thus, the time for her curiosity was typical.

However, the curiosity of his ward was not to be settled in the hands of his idiot brother’s wife, a woman from a very different era, with very different customs. 

Sesshomaru never could descend to the level of foolish ningen gossip, but the rumors of her witchcraft were potentially plausible; the tiny doses she took —to ensnare her hanyō lover with no threat of further offspring tainted with human blood— were evidence enough. 

The decrepit miko was no better choice; she had no fruit of her womb. The female tajiya could be a good choice — practical, young and strong. But she was of closer kinship with his brother. Anyway, how could he trust another woman —former tajiya or not— who abetted in filling the prattle of his ward with unrealistic notions of love and children. 

Most girl-children had their mothers to turn to for womanly knowledge; but, his ward was an orphan and would not find suitable replacement in the human females close to her.

He himself was not suitable to tutor her. They had two different frameworks — she human and female, he demon and male. 

Besides, the girl need not know of his dalliances in the springtime. A trivial scene flashed to his inner mind, tugging at the basal instincts of his inner youkai before navigating back to thoughts of his ward’s naïveté.

He had reached his conclusion.

_This Sesshomaru does not find the current females to be suitable mentors for his ward. They are tasked with one purpose of teaching the child practical human skills, and cannot even perform this well. This Sesshomaru will simply find another._

“You do not need to tell me this answer now, Rin,” he finally replied, realizing that he had unnerved the girl with his questions much too late.

“My intent was to understand what my ward is learning. Rin understands, yes?”

“Yes, m’lord.” 

He assumed her silence was embarrassment from being unable to answer his inquiries. The red in her face indicated thus to him.

Yet, she burned not with embarrassment, but with the desire to ask him. 

_Do you love someone, Lord Sesshomaru?_

The look he tossed at her when he noticed the girl had been staring was satisfactory enough. She gingerly tossed him a smile and turned her attention to a peaceful Jakken, who must have taken rest as they talked. She thanked Kami he was not privy to that.

Their talk turned to other matters, filled with suffering silence and pauses. Occasionally, she said things that resulted in a thin, ruggedly curved line of his mouth and brightened eyes — she had come to recognize this as his smile.

She knew the gesture was unrelated, she knew it answered none of her questions, but it was good enough for her.

_I am someone. He loves me._

* * *

They ascended the clouds in the cloak of twilight, just before the day broke. They often traversed at these hours and earlier, letting the dim light shield them from human visage and persecution. 

The ride on her winged beast was swift, bringing both her and younger brother to the castle in the sky. Their mother usually chose her great beast form for flight, but instead let her youngest sister clutch on to her furs as they took to the sky. 

Oda didn’t consider the details or comfort of the flight. Nor did she seem to observe the demon guards with disapproving eyes confiscating the sword of her brother. Instead, her vigilance focused on the strange castle in the sky, soaking in the splendor of a demon castle — that of a daiyoukai at that. So focused on her surroundings — with an occasional glance down at the soft swishes of her sister’s silk _sirwal_ — that it did not register that the everlasting stairs had funneled them to a small spite of a woman

Oda had seen many of her mother’s kind, ranging in coat color from kohl-black and some strange slate grey-blue to mottled reds, blondes and browns, with markings of every shape, length and size, varying from attention-demanding blue-black to faint butterscotch. But never had she set mature eyes on the powder-white, no _silver_ kind. 

The demoness perched on the cathedra in the center possessed two elegant streams of pearlescent locks, equally desaturated bangs parted so they could see her defining crescent moon mark and amber eyes. Her skin and fur were alabaster, reflecting the same glimmer as her hair. 

Drinking in the foreign beauty, Oda wondered the age of this daiyoukai — maybe the same age as her own mother. Demons aged much slower than other creatures, retaining their youthful beauty for what would far pass her own half-ordinary existence.

Despite her spike of innately human curiosity, Oda dared not to venture closer; instead, her mother sauntered in front of them all, Kazou slightly behind her right.

Her mother slipped into a soft crouch. With a bend of her forehead, black scarf, inkier curls and gold _battoulah_ cascaded to kiss the ground. The gesture created a ripple of similar genuflection among the three children — just as they were forewarned.

A soft _tsk_ from the seated woman indicated that their prostration was satisfactory. Or perhaps overdone, as she peered at the group with boredom, her face listlessly perched on a curled fist.

“I trust the journey was well, Tafsut-san,” words oozed from toylike cherry red lips.

“Yes, t’was. It is pleasing to see you again, _Inukimi-sama_ ,” her mother started in the newly foreign tongue. 

While Oda suspected that she and her siblings needed a few more days for fluency, body language and few sight words told enough about the demoness’ exchange.

“It pains me to hear about the loss of the former Lord of the Western Lands since my last visit,” Tafsut continued, “How fares the current Lord?”

Inukimi waved her hand, preceding an unappreciative, yet familiar sigh that could only signal her mother had probed into a very pertinent subject.

“He is a son that _barely_ makes time for his mother,” the white-hair demoness bleated, almost whining, with another shift and sigh. “But Sesshomaru-sama is doing well in role.”

Watching the glib back-and-forth of the two demonesses, Oda did her best to suppress her astonishment at this noble woman’s surprisingly informal tone and address of her mother.

 _Did she say Mother’s name? Were they...friendly?_ She could not tell her mother’s face from the rear, hinging on the calm scent and what sounded like a sprawling smirk on her mother’s lips.

“My Lady knows that pups retain childhood cheek, even well into maturity,” Tafsut nodded, eliciting a demure chuckle from the seated lady.

“ _Hmph_ , you speak truth, Tafsut. What of your male human... _pets_? I do not see _them_ prostrating before this daiyoukai.”

“All dead, regrettably so.”

“Oh, pity. I hope they went down smoothly.”

Tafsut furrowed her brow in confusion.

“Well, did you not _eat_ them?”

Tafsut suppressed a guffaw, almost amused at the absolutely formulaic response of the demoness.

“No, I didn’t, Inukimi,” the demoness chuckled, “I believe both the berserker and bushido passed in their mortal age. The first Tajik did as well. The other Persian simply... _disappeared_. It was not safe to linger and confirm his passing.”

Her noble lady did not necessarily understand the jest, but did not probe further. The tolerance for humans was not for her to understand; _some_ dogs were more convivial than others, tossing compassion to the weak-bodied and spirited mortals.

Inukimi knew _that_ breed of inuyoukai _very_ well.

With a mere shift in her noble gaze, the oddly acquainted tone of the noblewoman recalibrated into the esteemed talk of a daiyoukai of her station.

Two lofty fingers gestured towards the sitting three offspring, eyes averted in deference.

“And your children seem to be faring well, no?” 

“They are well,” her mother made a slight gesture to her right. “My eldest son, Kazuo, was a suckling last time you saw him.”

“ _M_ _y_ , how has he grown,” Inukimi superficially crooned, a less-than-critical eye sweeping over the pale boy. 

Despite the boy’s fine, distinguished demeanor, the daiyoukai could smell little of his yokī. A most unremarkable hanyō, the boy was.

“He kneels before me as if you did not doubt his survival as a pup.” 

“Indeed, m’lady.”

“I am most surprised you didn’t leave him for buzzards and lesser youkai to devour, none less eat the pup yourself,” Inukimi haughtily sniffed, regaining the familiar tease in tone.

“For all your indulgence in humansentiments, I did not take an adept inuyoukai as yourself to be _that_ filled with empathy.”

Despite the jest of her acquaintance, Tafsut only offered the noblewoman pursed lips, flashing a suppliant glance to not offer up any memories of the past, even if her children would not understand. 

Inukimi could only oblige, her empathy only stretching over shared knowledge of motherhood and the caché of youthful secrets of whom they once were.

“Hm, but it is of no matter,” the throned woman pressed on.

There seemed to be more and more of this glib conversation, rather than formal presentation of the silks and gifts they carried. The noblewoman only eyed the rolls of human prepared brocade and spices, strange perfume and demonic concoctions with less interest than the hanyō children would have thought.

The only substantial pause the lady took, was to examine a gold-laden _takouba_ and turquoise-encrusted amulets. Yet, with one flick of a two clawed fingers, the demon guards pulled the tributes away, a gesture of acceptance.

The white-furred woman shifted her inquiries onto the youngest, Shiraz, causing the child’s ears to twitch with the excitement of capturing the noblewoman’s gaze and hearing her name.

The child looked the most stereotypically hanyō of all, and no doubt soft, flopped dog ears intrigued the lady. The lady pointedly inquired about the pup’s age and behavior, a distant longing in her tone for a young playful pup around the grounds again.

“— _Oh_ , to have a young one again! I would sooner be dust before my son brings me a grandchild,” Inukimi clamored, punctuating her chagrin with her son as an exhale, “Now, are they mastering this tongue well? I see you have little problem, Tafsut.”

Oda watched her mother shrug. “They will grasp it better soon enough. They command many languages and writings.”

“ _Hm_ ,” was all the daiyoukai would gesture, sinking a fine alabaster cheek back into a perched palm.

Oda felt antique-gold eyes that were peering right at her, tracing the outline of her indigo, almost purple garb. No, those eyes gazed _into_ her. She looked away purposefully, careful to show obligatory deference rather than her increasing loss of nerve.

“If you children are to be vassals of this Lady’s service, I expect mastery of the language. No doubt my son would agree.” 

“Of course, my lady.”

“ _And_ suitable garb.”

Oda caught the eye of the noblewoman.

Why was she only looking at _her_? Surely, she meant to address her mother with her eyes. 

The white-blanched woman’s words did not make much sense, prompting her own cerulean eyes to softly glance left-wise at her mother for translation, momentarily breaking the steady scrutinizing gaze.

Without once turning back, her mother spoke plainly. “The lady has accepted us into her court, but we will need to don their clothing. Proper clothing to show our station. Our current clothes are odd.”

The clothes they wore were undoubtedly out of place. They did not have time nor leverage to obtain many long silk robes of these strange lands. _Hmph_ , Oda internally sniffed. Their garb _was_ appropriate for their station in their old lands; the layered robes, bodices, overcoats and pants showed intricate silk brocade designs, inked in varying blues, indigo, azure and cobalt.

But the steel gaze of the cloud-dwelling canine woman was efficacious in unnerving her, wearing down on her resolute mind. 

“And _this_ one is your first-born?”

“Yes, Inukimi-sama. Oda is her name.”

She had scoffed at her brother’s apprehensions the other day. And yet now, discomfort had squated squarely on her delicate shoulders and defecated. The snowy woman’s eyes never seemed to leave her own, except to hover from her head — covered in a gold embroidered _sinsile_ headband — to the pools of indigo silk by her knees.

“Why, she has the artistry of your good looks, Tafsut,” Inukimi announced, raising a pale brow as she continued her visual inspection, before turning straight to her mother.

“Will she too ply in your trade? A _gözde_ is what you were called, no?” The woman quipped, a decidingly wicked smile playing on her bowed lips as the newly acquired foreign word spilled from her tongue.

Kazuo was the first one to let a soft growl slip, much to the consternation of their mother and raised brow of the Lady. He found this daiyoukai to be forward and rude, purposely pressing upon the threshold of the honor of his pack and his mother. He understood the language better, but still glanced at his mother for clarification.

“She asks if your oldest sister will be like me,” Tafsut repeated pointedly, “She only jests with me.” Tafsut knew it was a display of dominance, and only had to bear it a few minutes longer. The air was now tinged with a slight feel of discomfort.

Whispers and indelicate rumors expected Oda to follow in her mother’s haughty steps. Despite her true age, Oda very much looked to be entering her second decade. She looked very much like her mother, a countenance with high cheekbones, upturned pert nose, full lips that pouted even without the sulk.

However, her body was a monument to a fair share of her human father’s coloring: the evidence was in the pale wood hue of her skin, ringlets that mushroomed and varied in color, wildly twisting from dark sand at the root to flaxen gold at her navel. Of course, she did not inherit her mother’s copper flesh, nor coarse inky waves; the inherited amber of her mother’s eyes were only in the soft starburst around her pupil, surrounded by cerulean blue-green. 

“She is free to make her own decisions,” her mother eventually replied, “But she and _all_ of her siblings possess many useful skills. They can even command sword, spear and beast, if need be.”

Regardless of looks, her mother kept such folly far out of the reach and eye of her daughter when they were members of the imperial harem, which housed all women connected to the noble family — from daughters to favored lovers.

In those private quarters, Oda could learn to be as many things as she pleased in their travels: a voracious scholar, a warrioress with trusted tools, a skilled artisan.

A beautiful companion? No, she remained unwed and unsullied, even in her older age — by her age, her mother had already been mated and pupped. Oda did not mind; the discomfort with no constant companionship seemed to be the true affliction here.

The gracious daiyoukai sniffed. “Well, let me tell you that _this_ Lady of the Western Lands will be the one to determine usefulness.”

“Of course, I do not doubt your judgement, Inukimi-sama.”

“Good. Your pack has _my_ blessing to stay,” Inukimi huffed, “Nothing less of gracious servitude will be accepted as both gift and offering for your Lady and Lord. Am I understood?”

“Of course, _Lady_ Inukimi,” Tafsut ventured through another dip of her forehead to the marble ground. Her children only understood the subcontext and followed obediently in the gesture.

“We serve you and Lord Sesshomaru.”

When Oda rose her upper body back upright, she felt the sting of golden orbs looking at her.

Only her.

“Yes, indeed. Lord Sesshomaru and I will find use for you all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitions of historical words and terms used in this chapter:  
> sirwal = Arabic for a baggy cut of pants, usually known as "harem pants". Women often wore them underneath their robes and overcoats.  
> battoulah = a distinct metallic mask used by Muslim women as a form of face-covering  
> gözde = Turkish for "favorite", used to refer to preferred or favorite concubines of high-ranking officials in the Safavid Empire.


	4. Incubation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why is that, my Lord? What use is human learning if it is only skills, and not their ways?”
> 
> “The girl is in her fourteenth year. She will enter womanhood in a very short time. It would be impractical for her and I to watch over her until her death.” Sesshomaru glanced away from the demoness’ understanding gaze, his vision fixating on the gold and oranges of the trees.
> 
> “A husband will soon follow that time. And she will need such knowledge to attract one of means and rank to support her.”
> 
> To protect her, he meant.
> 
> To ensure she lives in comfort.
> 
> Perhaps, even to love her.

As an autumn field

Of ripened grain

I do not show my love;

Yet, how could my heart

Ever forget you?

_Chocolate orbs shyly opened, taking in the three forms before her. Eyes glanced at the first form to gently glide through the lull between the soft words and silence._

_“Excellent job, Rin-kohai,” beamed the first, a goldened woman dressed in blue._

_Even in her casual position_ — _a tan hand supporting beautiful face, elbow planted firmly on a cross-legged thigh, indigo_ sirwal _sprawled across the mottled grass_ _— her enthusiasm was well distinguished._

_Her other hand had been following lines of ink on a scroll in front of her. “You recited it perfectly,” the half demoness cooed._

_“—With her eyes_ closed _,” chimed in the second form._

_Brown eyes did not bother to skid to the second form. A vexatious toad, with unwarranted commentary meant to chip away at her esteem. The first form, the blonde, seemingly brushed away the amphibious snark too._

_“We can always work on that," the blonde supplied, her tone hovering none above her usual stern, but affable emotion. She glanced up at Rin, offering a subtle wink, before peering back down at the parchments at her foot, scratching furiously at a blank one to her left._

_“_ Bah! _That should be the_ first _thing you work on,” the imp sniffed, jumping from his perch in the branches with his master. “To think a half-breed summoned us to watch a child perform with her eyes closed, I never —”_

_“Jaken, save your critiques,” the blonde cooed, “The important part is she knows the words and conveys them with emotion.”_

_“Anyway, what did_ you _think, Sesshomaru-sama?”_

_Rin still held her breath. It seemed like she had not breathed since her very first, initial inhale of the words. The third form had barely made any movement since she had concluded the last of her words: he sat majestically in the low branch above, arms folded, shoulders back, and composed expression._

_With a sweep of gold eyes downwards and exhale, she could catch her breath. She saw the warmth, affability, the benevolence under such exterior._

_He breathed life into her spirit; once as a child with his_ Tenseiga, _now as an_ almost _woman with his eyes, his kind words, the softness of his mokomoko. To her,_ this _was their private connection, between breath and eyes._

_“This Sesshomaru deems Rin-chan’s performance to be good,” he simply stated, and once again, this was enough for Rin. His eyes, words, breath — even his protection, were focused on her._

_It did not matter that Jaken had quipped something unneeded, nor that the blonde eyed the transfixed child with the vague suspicion of a raised brow._

_“T-thank you, Sesshomaru-sama! Oda-senpai pushed me to work_ really hard _on this one, and she even —”_

_She had barely noticed when her Lord slid out of the tree with his unique grace, turning questioning eyes to the seated blonde to his left._

_“I want to understand why these sonnets are always about love,_ hanyō _.”_

 _Rin paused at the interruption. He had barely shifted a register in tone, but_ she _could tell the disturbance in his mood._ Of course _, she could always tell. Why was he displeased with her_ senpai _? Was it that he really didn’t enjoy her performance, and sought to blame her tutor?_

 _Rin couldn’t decide if the deflecting act was absolutely romantic, or worrying for the temper her senpai would have to endure._ _However, the half-demoness seemed untroubled by her Lord’s directed inquiry._

_“You’d have to ask the one who penned it,” the blonde shrugged, eyes not lifting from the assortment of unfurled scrolls before her, clawed fingers delicately thumbing through the pages._

_“_ Ack, _obstinate cow! You look at your Lord Sesshomaru when you respond,” the imp wheezed, conveniently out of the reach of the half-demoness. A knife narrowly missing his head the first time he had laden her with too many insults, served the imp’s memory well._

 _“Answer me,_ hanyō _."_

_The blonde could only vaguely murmur, wiping an ink-soaked claw on the edge of one of the parchments in the stack. Blue eyes peered up at her lord, somewhat surprised at the annoyance on his countenance._

_She wondered if her lord remembered that he explicitly tasked her to teach the child human art. Was it her own fault the sonnets, poems and haiku were transfixed on love. Was that not just the nature of humans?_

_“Rin only chose to memorize and recite what was available,” Oda trickled, careful to not accidentally insult her lord in excess._

_He was often irritated with her words, her demeanor, and she certainly took some joy in presenting her lord with cheek._

_“Hm,” the demon lord retorted, “So_ you too _bring more fanciful sentiments about human love to my ward?”_ _He inched closer, almost as if he wished to block all views of the afternoon sun from the sitting young woman._

_Rin tossed a worried look to her tutor, understanding how her Sesshomaru felt about such folly._

_“Well, uh, Oda-senpai, uh, allowed me to, uhm,_ choose _from a volume of poetry she had found,” the girl began, alabaster face flushed with the redness of embarassment “Most, if not all, were about, uh...l-love.”_

_The Lord of the Western Lands did not even look back at his ward, eyes still intent on the seated blonde, resplendent in her absolute audacity to remain collected in the face of her Lord’s annoyance._

_However, over the last few months, he had become accustomed to the young woman’s quips and indolence towards him. The sheer tenacity of the wild-haired one in providing truth and insights for the Lord of the Western Lands, proved to be a contradiction, a loathsome welcome in his life._

_The half-demoness suppressed a sigh, unwavering at the demon standing above her. “Lord Sesshomaru, you seem to understand little about humans.”_

_“And who are_ you _to make that determination?”_

 _“You’re correct. Who am I to question your infinite knowledge then,” Oda crooned, the acidity of her cadence soaked in a coquette bat of long, dark lashes,_ _“I shan’t remind your Lordship that humans barely understand themselves, their own existences.”_

_Sesshomaru paused._

_“Nor should I remind my Lord that love, passion, desires — are all phenomena the humans continually ask of themselves. These questions are all within their art, you s—”_

_“Lord Sesshomaru! You would let this half-breed talk to y—” The imp was promptly smacked from the lord’s shoulder, eliciting girlish giggles from the two females as they exchanged a glance to each other._

_“Jaken,_ shut up _,” he scowled, attempting to disregard the knowing chuckles from the seated half-demoness, “What is your point,_ Oda. _”_

 _“It is that you must not be cross when it comes up,” the woman coolly retorted, “Trust that I know what kind of poetry a sophisticated human, like a daimyo,_ _would like to hear.”_

_The Lord of the Western Lands could only toss her a frown, and turn on his heels._

_“Jaken, come,” he commanded, only glancing at the imp on the ground, before turning steely orbs to the two females._

_“Next time, prepare literature about other topics that would interest a human lord,” the daiyoukai sneered, “I would not like this_ infection _of sentiments to incubate in my ward’s mind any further.”_

_“Of course, Sesshomaru-sama,” the half-demoness gave a slight nod as her genuflection at his impending leave._

_As the Lord pivoted on boot-clad heels to take his leave, both cerulean and chocolate eyes rolled towards the sky, and then back on one another with mischievous grins._

* * *

The Lord of the Western Lands was never one to be particularly amused with his mother’s jests. He found the words of the Lady of the Western Lands to emanate childish snark and pretension. 

She could not expect him to further initiate visits if she would continue to behave like. . . _her_. Yet, it was his duty to entertain the woman who bore him — indeed, he did owe the woman his life and upbringing, as well as the life of his ward. 

The woman also had his admiration for the restraint she demonstrated in regards to his father’s dalliances. A proud woman, she demonstrated prestige by not twaining her husband’s sex nor his ningen whore in two. Though her stories about her initial reaction to their child always provided amusement; although their men often took several mates, arrangements were always transparent. Not clandestine like the birth of his younger brother.

With their shared disgust with late Lord's clandestine ways, Sesshomaru supposed that she _could_ be a tolerable creature, if she so wanted. 

Thus, her message to converse at her castle in the sky was received. Soon, the lord was airborne through wisps of clouds, and face to face with the lady, in her private chambers.

“ _Son_ ,” the woman cooed, a pale hand extended from her perch on her Chinese _chuang_ —ready for his prostration. Sesshomaru grasped the woman’s hand, followed by a soft nod of his head.

“I am pleased you have decided to _finally_ visit your mother,” she started, declining into the traditional sofa, “Don’t tell me that another one of your human wards needs revival.”

Sesshomaru scowled, a scant growl escaping his throat. He could not expect less of his mother — could he?

“Is _this_ how you greet your only son?”

The Lady of the Western Lands only raised a pale brow in response, perhaps taken aback at her son’s volatile reaction.

“Oh, lighten up your mood, son," the lady scoffed, "I am only _teasing_ you.” 

“If you spent less time playing farceur,” he hurled, practically spitting his contempt for his mother’s joke, “You would not need to comment on my sparse appearance in your castle.”

The lady seemed unmoved, the look of boredom as if she were observing her pup participate in an unexplained outburst.

Sesshomaru exhaled, folding arms into the sleeves of his kimono.

“What did you need to talk about?”

The silver-haired woman reached a delicate finger out for a round dish, plucking from it a round shaped piece of raw flesh and plopping it on her tongue. Heart of some lesser youkai no doubt.

“How is your quest for a new tutor for the human?” 

“Abysmal,” he simply stated. The look on his mother’s face only told him in which direction the conversation would trickle and flow. “I suppose you have an option?”

“Yes, new vassals for your Lordship. They arrived from Persia, but the way of the mainland.”

“ _They_?” 

“Yes, an inuyoukai female,” the lady continued, “—and her children. All hanyōu.” 

Inukimi could not stop the spread of a smirk across her son’s face, observing the sudden shift in emotions, from bafflement to disapproval. 

“And different fathers,” she quickly quipped, just dropping another contemptful layer to such scandal. 

Sesshomaru could only balk at the idea. Had his mother lost the shred of sanity and good sense that she had left? 

“And you believe a degenerate as such would benefit Rin’s education?” 

“Is there a reason you question your mother’s judgement so,” the silver haired woman exhaled, her cheek lounging on an upturned fist. 

“You are the one who has suggested a questionable candidate,” he quipped.

“So, she _is_ a candidate,” Inukimi chuckled, “I did not finish my words though.”

“Go on, then.”

“She carries many _takouba_.” 

A fine eyebrow peaked on Sesshomaru’s countenance, respite with intrigue. 

“So, she is _Édi_ inuyoukai. From the dark continent, no?” 

“Yes, one of such a noble kind,” his mother sniffed, “You must know she offered one of her own swords.”

Unlike many daiyoukai of the lands, Sesshomaru was not an ignorant creature. His upbringing and travels brought to his knowledge the oral traditions and youkai lore. Listening to his father, and reading written accounts of well traveled youkai, left Sesshomaru with the knowledge of older, much more ancient breeds of inuyoukai. 

For this breed, he knew they were desert dwellers on strange lands, far from their own; ignorant humans worshipped them as gods in antiquity. There was a unique quality to their yōki, present in the patterns of their markings, and precious earth metal amulets. 

_Powerful, no doubt — that is yōki that has cultivated for that long._

Sesshomaru brought a clawed finger to his chin, lightly scratching. 

“Hm, where is the female?”

The Lady of the Western Lands smiled at her son, a wry smirk that spread like opposing wildfire across luminous white snow. Inukimi knew her son well. For a Lord focused on power, the very prospect of such potent prestige in his company, to wield a sword forged by such power _—_ was an intoxicant to her son. 

“You do not wish to know more, my son?”

“I can speak to the woman herself for that,” the Lord stated callously. He need not hear more of his mother’s words — for what more? Vapid gossip? He could receive much more information from the source itself.

Seeing her son’s growing impatience, Inukimi gestured two black painted claws in towards her right, a small elegant wave. 

“She should be in the gardens. I told her earlier you would be here.”

Sesshomaru made no haste to rise to his feet, offering a perfunctory nod towards his mother, to mark his departure to find the inuyoukai.

“Do be careful with your words, son. She _is_ your elder.” The chortling taunt of his mother reverberated behind him. 

* * *

The inner courtyard of his mother’s castle was familiar to the daiyoukai, a place he spent much of his adolescence and years as a pup in. He certainly did not feel nostalgia for this place.

It was not difficult to spot the dark woman among the fading foliage, nor for her to see him. The woman made no move to rise from her lounged position on a bench; loose, indigo silk pants spread across the base, covered by an equally deep blue jacket. 

Sesshomaru often did well in maintaining his stolid posture, but his inner mind acknowledged mild fascination with the woman. Legends and lore did not properly vindicate the mystique of this breed. If she stood as an exemplar of their breed, they were certainly an unfamiliar countenance. 

The complexion was a soft bronze; though a finely decorated head covering shielded her hair, he could see blackness, dipping into coarse waves. These dark features provided great contrast with amber-gold eyes, the only familiar feature. He determined that the woman was decidingly strange, but handsome.

Her markings were odd too, lines, and geometric shapes of faded red that trailed from forehead to the bulb of her fine nose, making a cross across high cheekbones. The markings on her hands, trailing up her arms, made strange geometric shapes; on one shoulder trailed a thick, fur appendage with coarse raven strands.

“You are the woman my mother speaks of,” the Lord stated plainly, stepping towards the lounging woman. On many creatures, such purposeful immobility would risk his ire. However, he could smell the potency of her yōki.

With the distinctive jingle of ornate earrings, the woman peered at him, studying the male that sulked towards her. 

“You favor Inukimi-sama, much more than your father,” she stated, face present with curiosity of the Lord; her voice carried an unfamiliar accent, but her command of _nihongo_ was commendable.

It was evident she had been to these lands before. 

“Child, are you well? Perhaps, I shouldn’t have mentioned the late Lord, my apologies.”

Sesshomaru wished to understand what expression he bore that caused the woman to inquire about his well being. Did his face reflect surprise? Both mention of his father’s death and her apology was no doubt strange, a rarity in his mother’s castle no doubt. No matter; he shifted to finish his inquiries.

“So, you _are_ the woman.”

“ _Tsk_ ,” the dark-skinned demoness clicked her tongue, “Did the Lady not tell you my name? It’s Tafsut.”

“Hm.” 

Name did not matter much to the Lord of the Western Lands, as so far her skills and knowledge.

“I suppose the Lady also hasn’t told you much outside of my half-breed children and human lovers?”

The statement, along with a roll of kohl-lined eyes, elicited a rumbling chuckle from the Lord, one that he promptly stifled.

However, she still flashed him a toothy grin, brimming with mutual knowledge of the Lady of the Western Land’s renown cheek.

“And that you are of the _Édi_. Nothing more.”

“I don’t believe I can say that I am surprised,” the dark woman sighed, waving an elegant hand with a distinct chime of her bracelets. The air escaping her mouth was undoubtedly wrought with the colornessless of divulging one's life, as if some public spectacle.

“So, what is it that your Lordship would like to know,” she breathed, “Your mother already addressed my lovers and fertility it seems, so I will do my best to cover everything else.”

Another half-suppressed snort from the Lord cut through the path of their conversation. Sesshomaru could almost admit that, thus far, he enjoyed the demoness’ cheek.

“I deduce that your travels have brought much knowledge of human life,” the young daiyoukai offered, remnants of a wry smirk still present, “Tell me what you have learned.”

A look of perplexity shadowed across the ancient demoness’ face. Though she was not privy to the development of the young Lord, she solely surmised he possessed some of the same prejudices towards humankind. 

Thus, the Lord’s request to learn —not of her ancient people, nor her skills, but rather— _human_ culture, was strange. But was she really the one to deem anything as strange?

“Now, I must ask why would a daiyoukai such as yourself be interested in human skills,” ventured the demoness.

“Surely you don’t wish to find a human lover? I can tell you it is _not_ worth the hassle— ”

An indignant grumble erupted from the Lord. The nerve of the demoness’ very implication that _he_ , Lord of the Western Lands, would have an _intimate_ interest in the human arts! 

He now understood how his mother and the strange demoness were agreeable, both with the ability to state offensive things.

“ _No_ , mind your tongue, demoness,” he sharply replied, steel in his tone, “I have a ward.” Now he would have to oblige her prodding questions.

“I did not mean to offend you, Sesshomaru-sama.” The demoness only gave a sympathetic look in response to his ire. Unlike his mother, it seemed her straightforwardness was born from practicality, rather than vindictiveness.

“And, yes, the human child. Your mother mentioned it and it’s need for a tutor.”

Sesshomaru gave her a simple nod.

“Then tell me of your experience with humans as I _asked_ ,” the Lord articulated again, doing his own best to suppress the rise of further annoyance.

“Well, there are so many to account for, my Lord,” she supplied, “Each with different experiences and skill sets.”

“ _Tell me_. I have the time, yet I am growing impatient.”

“Well, in my short lifetime, I’ve lived on a pedestal above the sand-dwelling humans of the _Tamazgha_ and the Copts. Commoner alongside the Danes, Normans, and Byzantines. A simple nomad among the ningen of this land. A courtier among the Turkmen, Persians, Mongols, and even mainlanders.”

She paused to gauge the thoughts of the Lord. Stoic faces were not difficult for the demoness to divine, accustomed to the refined designations of the court — both human and youkai.

“Anyway — I am skilled in many languages, reading, writing and spoken. I can command instrument, poetry, mathematics, and movement. My knowledge knows very little limits.”

“My mother did say you had an impressive retinue of experience with humankind,” Sesshomaru inclined, potentially the closest he had inched upon a compliment in some time.

“Aren’t I blessed then,” the demoness continued, “Do you understand what it was that I did in all of these places?”

Sesshomaru offered a quick nod of acknowledgement. There was not much more to explain to the daiyoukai: the thought of three hanyō pups was enough clarification. Also, the Lord was not cruel; he surmised such retellings of her former occupation were vexing to the ancient demoness.

Silence encumbered between them for a moment.

“May I ask your Lord a question then?”

“Ask.”

“Why do you seek a new tutor for your ward? Are the humans of your lands serfs and commoners?” She asked softly.

Of course, humans were innately less inept than their demon lords; but there were some, of the lowest denomination, with little inclination for formal learning.

“One could say that,” he drew in, “They fill her mind with useless prattle, an—”

“ _Oh!_ It is a _girl_ you have in your care,” the demoness crooned, her eyes lighting up with mirth.

“Do not interrupt your Lord,” he spat, “Yes, _she_ will need to learn skills becoming of her station.”

“Well, that is a challenge with such unread humans.”

“All the more reason why your services will begin as soon as possible.” 

Sesshomaru said the latter with finality, turning on his heels in order to leave the strange dark-skinned demoness. 

“You will send my valet, Jaken, a list of any items needed for her tutorship,” he casually tossed over his shoulder.

“Oh, pity I won’t get to meet him,” the demoness shot back, deceptively casual. 

An orbit of pewter hair and fur stalked towards Tafsut, snarling at her words. 

“And _why_ would that be, Tafsut?”

“Because I do decline the position.”

“You _what_?”

“Decline. As in, I am not going to fulfill this role,” Tafsut simply stated with a shrug, nonplussed by the young lord’s ire being raised once again. Despite his stately, mature presence, he retained much of the youthful impatience, and demanding nature of a child. Such a young pup at heart, the demoness could only contend.

“You dare disregard your Lord? This Sesshomaru has opened his lands to you and ilk, and you _decline_.”

Tafsut knit her brows in a pattern that conveyed annoyance. “The child is human. You would be incredibly foolish to put her in the tutelage of another youkai,” she sniffed, “Otherwise, would you not teach the girl yourself, or put her in the charge of your mother?”

Sesshomaru paused. The demoness only continued.

“I already know she has asked questions on subjects you are unable to answer,” she signed, “I face this with my own children. The unknown understanding of their human sentiments.”

“And yet, the girl’s education requires the learning of human arts and culture,” the Lord retorted.

“Why is that, my Lord? What use is human learning if it is _only_ skills, and not their ways?”

The lull that fell between the two youkai was damning to the Lord, a soundless verification that not only did the demoness possess a valid position, but she certainly was clever. The Lord could not even conjure his usual patronizing hauteur, nor ire as a response.

With an ounce of reticence, he could only acquiesce to the ancient demoness’ inquisition.

“The girl is in her fourteenth year. She will enter womanhood in a very short time. It would be impractical for her and I to watch over her until her death.” Sesshomaru glanced away from the demoness’ understanding gaze, his vision fixating on the gold and oranges of the trees.

“A husband will soon follow that time. And she will need such knowledge to attract one of means and rank to support her.”

 _To protect her_ , he meant.

_To ensure she lives in comfort._

_Perhaps, even to love her._

Tafsut eyed the lord, her nose attempting to orient and comprehend the sudden melancholy of his face.

“I understand your reasoning, Sesshomaru-sama," she sighed, "It is noble for you to ensure your ward leaves your care well.” 

Did the thought of the human maturing bring him sadness? She supposed he cared to see her dressed in finery, well-fed and mistress of her own lands — no different than the aspirations Tafsut had for her own offspring. 

Despite her own quandaries with humans, the demoness was impressed, amused and perhaps _moved_ by the juxtaposition of human sentiments on the Great Demon Lord.

“I will accept the role,” Tafsut uttered. 

One finger went up to pause the lord, who had snapped eyes at the demoness, clearly pleased, maybe partially surprised at the turn in her supposedly final judgement. “On one contingency, one request to you, Sesshomaru-sama.”

Sesshomaru’s expression maneuvered back to his perpetual sneer of annoyance. The demoness _clearly_ understood and sought to use her leverage in the situation. 

_Damn the bitch._

“What is that you want,” he relented, a sigh of irritation escaping his lips.

“I have a son, Kazuo,” she started, her voice was steady, but contained some pause, a note of deliberation as if she practiced the words before.

“And what meaning is that tidbit of knowledge _to me_ , Tafsut.”

The demoness inhaled, finally letting her words pour. 

“I would like your Lordship to train him, hone his yōki with your expertise.”

The Lord of the Western Lands pierced at the demoness, teetering on the very margin of his default state of mild displeasure and actual indignation. Did the demoness think of him as so ignorant? Or worse — did the demoness believe he was filled with _kindness_? 

Her reticence to speak underscored this thought for Sesshomaru.

“You know very well that would be a fruitless task,” he sneered, eyes narrowed at the prospect of taking an unremarkable boy into _his_ tutelage.

“Would you not think more of the idea?” The woman’s voice did not hover over a murmur.

He could determine the scent of furor rising within the ancient demoness. While he was son of the Great Dog Demon, and a daiyoukai in his own right, Sesshomaru did not wish to provoke the ire of the demoness. 

The ancient yōki was strange, rumored to allow them to freely cross between the boundaries of the three worlds and drag souls to an unknown fourth. He did not wish to spoil the morning in finding out if these claims were true.

“Your people, the _Édi_ , are known for being almost exclusively matrilineal,” he flatly replied, “Males of your tribe do not possess the same potent yōki as their foremothers.”

“That may be true, but they still possess some bit of our power,” she quipped, pressing for the daiyoukai to understand

“Tafsut, your son has a ningen father, does he not? How much more diluted is his yōki, then?”

The demoness could only stare at him, amber eyes only flickering the heat of her indomitable nature.

“Have you ever seen anyone wield a _takouba_?”

Sesshomaru halted. She did not threaten him, did she? The demoness was spartan, but not fool enough to do so in his own mother’s castle. 

Instead, he watched as she pushed back sleeves of linen and silk up her left arm, until her forearm was visible. A figure of fine black lines was etched into her, resembling a simple tattoo.

“What are you doing, _woman_?”

She only signaled for him to watch.

A swift pulse of yōki emitted from the woman, dampening the air surrounding them. Slowly inching from her corneas, parts of the demoness’ sclera had darkened substantially — an almost black color. 

Black claws dug into the strange geometrical markings, until he was sure she would draw her own blood. But instead, fingers seemed to squelch cleanly into the skin. 

What emerged caught Sesshomaru’s genuine surprise.

Viscous black liquid followed the path of the demoness’ claws from her skin, elongating and following the continuous stretch of her hand. As more mire stretched into a thick black line, the black marking dissolved until it was gone. The mucus squealed and squelched, forming into a pointed tool. 

With a simple exhale from her mouth, Sesshomaru watched the thick black substance harden and color into a long blade, approximately three meters long.

With the task complete, Tafsut knowingly peered up to her lord’s widened eyes. Slowly, she handed the blade, hilt-first to the demon lord.

His first touch of the silver and gold enladen handle sent a slight electric pulse up his fingertips.

“Careful,” Tafsut soothed, “Much like your current swords, it must be _commanded_ to yield to you.”

Sesshomaru rarely admired weaponry; no demon in these lands possessed more powerful tools than he, Lord of the Western Lands. Thus, what was it to ogle over any other blade. Yet, to witness a demon forge a great blade from _their own living flesh_? The untold power was immeasurable.

“How—how did you do this, woman?”

“You speak to a youkai who is atleast a millenia more ancient than you,” Tafsut chuckled, “Consider it a gift of our friendship, our —”

She peered at him intently, chewing on her words. “Our _negotiation_.”

Sesshomaru willed himself to peel his eyes from the blade, sliding grasping eyes to the demoness.

“What is it _exactly_ that you offer?”

“Though this _takouba_ is valued more than I as a tutor, allow this sword to be the final seal in our negotiation,” the demoness cooed, observing the wide-eyed nature of the daiyoukai before her. She could only flash her carnivorous canines in a cheeky grin. 

“My knowledge and this sword, in exchange for your tutelage of my only son.”

“And if I cannot train the boy?”

“Then, I simply will not yield the blade nor knowledge over to you and your ward.”

In a screech of light, the blade gelatinized, the black viscous mixture retracting into her right hand. The only trace of such a vision was in the middle of her right palm, a strange geometric marking in black color.

“This Sesshomaru will not accept such terms without time to contemplate,” he balked, eyes returning to the mark on her outstretched palm.

The demoness let out a patronizing click of her tongue against the roof of her mouth. 

“Of _course_ , Lord Sesshomaru,” sarcasm coated every single word that slithered from her tongue. “I could never pressure a demon of your status to do my bidding, now could I?” 

Sweeping from her sitting position, she tossed her fur appendage over her shoulder, ready to take flight.

“Your mother will inform you where to locate me. I propose you do not keep me waiting too long, my lord,” she designated, unexcitedly, “It’s best to strike while the iron is hot.”

In a flurry of dark fur, the demoness took flight, leaving the Lord to contemplate her words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK! We're getting into it, slowly but surely. I wanna say I'm not sure why I have to state it, but the pairings & tags let you know that Sess/Rin isn't the *only* relationship ft. these two. If you can't stand to see either paired with other characters, then I don't think the story will be for you. But if you wanna see them navigate through all the growing pains of their early relationship, then stay put.
> 
> As for Tafsut, her specific tribe of inuyokai is modeled after the Tuareg people of southern Libya, who are nomads. Hopefully, y'all gonna like these plot twists coming up. Also, here is another glossary for foreign and old-timey words I use within this chapter.
> 
> takouba = a type of broadsword used across the Southern Sahara and Sahel region of Africa  
> Édi = Tamasheq/Berber for the word "dog"  
> Tamazgha = Name for parts of the Southern Sahara and Sahel region of Africa that is traditionally inhabited by Berber people  
> Copts = In our modern context, it's an ethnoreligious group in Egypt, but in antiquity, it was generally used to refer to Egyptians  
> Mainland(ers) = China, and Chinese people


	5. Diplomatic Immunity

_The friends are free of the memory of me_

_although I remember them a thousand times_

— Hafiz, 14th Century

_Soft shell-hued fingers fumbled with a flaxen coil in its clutches, rustling through a listless inspection of the texture and quality. It was a contrast to the fine silk of white strands she often toyed with, or her own coarse black locks._

_Chocolate brown orbs flickered with general inquisitiveness, squinting under the sun overhead as if she could direct light through the strands._

_Rin enjoyed laying in the dewy grass after their afternoon meal, relishing in the newfound concepts the foreign hanyō procured and contributed to their daily routine._ Sea-es-tuh, _she said in her head, a strange language of backwards people with white skin, who had their lands cultivated by the intelligent humans of southern sand. Or so the adolescent girl had been told._

_“Do many people of your last land typically have hair like yours?”_

_A clawed hand attended graciously to the ever present scrolls, transferring illegible curvy script into readable kanji for the child._

_With a finishing stroke, the half-demoness rubbed her forehead, partially ruminating on the question._

_“Hm, well, not really,” she mused, glancing at the horizon, failing to notice the confused look on the child’s face at the usage of such foreign words._

_“Most have straight, straight hair unless they are_ Ḥabashī,” _or_ some _other tribe with curls.”_

_“No, no, I meant the wheat coloring,” Rin vaguely shook her head, presenting the young woman a sole lone ringlet that escaped its position in the loose chignon, as if the hanyō required a reminder of her own head._

_“Oh, not always, but some human girls brought in from_ Circassian _and_ Rus’ _tribes do,” the demoness explained, a light grin donning her full lips._

 _“I had a friend, Vīlma, with hair as red as falling leaves,” the blonde smirked, glancing down to catch the girl’s perplexion shift into amused disbelief at the thought of fire-red hair on a_ human _._

_“Do you miss them,” the child supplied, “Your friends?”_

_The lull was not alarming, but rather it was the exhale, puncturing the calm joy of downtime with a wistful sadness._

_“It’s hard_ not _to miss people. But there’s too many over such little time to exert such energy on.”_

—Exert bitter tears on _, she meant._

_“Well, if you leave us, hopefully you will find time to miss me.”_

_The words were passed through a delicate whisper, punctuating the soft caress against the grain of the ornate foreign scarf the half-demoness chose as an obi. “And everyone else, of course.”_

_Canines flashed brilliant white in the sunlight._

_“Shall I even miss Jaken?”_

_“Even him.”_

_“Shall I miss the..._ always kind _words of our Lord?”_

_“You will be begging for the days someone calls you hanyō instead of Oda-san again.”_

_A rustle of thick branches above them, slight glimpse of silver locks and disapproving grunt elicited some humor from the young women. A low chuckle and girlish giggle filled the air._

_Generally, neither young woman needed to glance up at the demon in the tree; his face and eyes were often oriented to the distance, his affect reflecting unwavering reserve. But the duo glanced upwards._

_“Well, you should wear your hair down more often, Oda-chan,” the adolescent girl nudged._

_Rin had prayed to sustain this break from the melancholy in the air, “Don’t you think so, Sesshomaru-sama?”_

_“You ask_ my _opinion.”_

_“Uh huh!”_

_Gold eyes flickered down at the lounging females, observing the creamy white hands and nails of his ward, wringing, palming sumptuous beige curls. Just for a moment, perhaps a millisecond, he could envision other pale hands,_ claws _in those locks._

_“No,” amber eyes never strayed from the complimenting white hands in gold hair, “It is much too distracting.”_

* * *

The gap between them was not just physical, as they assembled in varying corners of the room. The distance merely stood as an effigy of their differences that segmented across age, time period, and experiences. Old woman, young woman and girl-child in one room.

“Dry your thine eyes, do not cry,” the long-lived miko prompted, pushing another linen fold towards her younger apprentice.

“I — i-it w-will be fine, but I, uh, just—”

“It’ll be...okay, Kagome-chan,” the adolescent attempted to soothe; her intonation betrayed the baseline of mild bewilderment.

More sniffles laden the air.

“I-I think, I’ll jus-just m-miss our...time _together_ ,” the raven-haired miko lamented, enshrining her nose back into the linen and puffing.

Rin did not understand why the time-traveling miko was crying. She would still see her in the village, correct? Lord Sesshomaru wouldn’t have her isolated from humankind again, nonetheless _friends_ that his Rin loved and cared to see.

No, no, her Lord _valued_ Rin-chan’s need to see all her friends in Kaede-san’s village! Surely, he would not deprive her of the young miko’s presence so soon as he did her expertise.

“The girl will still see ye, all of us in the village,” countered the elder miko, nodding her head towards the reddened face of her apprentice before turning on the girl. 

“And ye will still attend to your tasks with me, Rin-chan.”

The simple words from Kaede were effective. Kagome sighed, as if withdrawing her excess tears for storage and later use. No doubt storing for the next disproportionate reaction, such as a time the surly Inuyasha even so chooses to disagree with her. 

Rin could not resist such cattish thoughts. However, almost _seven_ years of living and interacting with the couple in the village and hut, had provided much insight.

As much as she possessed admiration for the gentle care of the young miko, Rin didn’t understand her propensity for tears, especially over such a happy _comminiqué_.

“A new tutor is momentous for ye, Rin. Ye will be obedient for them, yes?”

“ _Uh huh!_ Of course, Kaede-san,” the girl affirmed, “It’s exciting.”

“ _Very_ exciting,” Kagome groused, twisting a hint of bitterness into the secretion-laden linen with her hand. 

For a moment, Rin felt the feeling of shame rise in her stomach, now twisting in the same knot formulating under her former mentor’s pale fingers. Was it so wrong for her to be thrilled about this new opportunity that her Lord provided?

Kaede scoffed, turning her one-eyed gaze towards her apprentice. Rin could only silently praise the older woman for the verbal intrusion.

“Ye _could_ be less sour about this, Kagome.”

“I’m not... _sour_! I’m just, ugh — _he_ didn’t have to insult me on top of finding someone else,” the apprentice miko gushed, a distinct whine in her voice.

“ _He_ is your husband’s brother.”

The gawk from the apprentice miko and knowing glance from the girl only underscored the women’s familiarity with the ire Lord Sesshomaru held for his younger half-brother.

Kagome only released another half sigh.

“Well, did he say _what_ Rin’s new tutor will be doing, teaching—” 

Kaede nodded her head in affirmation, tilting her head back to sip upon hot tea.

“—Other than things _we_ already showed her.”

At first, Rin would cringe at the way Kaede slammed down her cup, but now the gesture of her disgruntlement brought a giggle to her throat.

“Ye have been around Inuyasha too long, ye even produce such snark like him!”

“I’m just _asking_ , Kaede-san!”

“Fine,” the older woman conceded, “He mentioned arts, culture, dance. Things a lady would need to know.”

Rin wanted to understand why their voices dropped almost to a whisper, as if she was not to be privy to any information on her new tutor; despite her new predicament, it certainly annoyed her that they behaved as if she too was a silent ornament in the room.

“A _lady_?”

“Yes, ye heard correct. A noble lady.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Kagome murmured, supplying Rin with a fretful glance, “That doesn’t mean Lord Sesshomaru would—”

“This Sesshomaru would _what_ , Miko?”

A halting gasp from both mikos oriented Rin towards the silver figure that nimbly streamed through the doorway.

Before Rin could even hear the audible gasp of the apprentice miko, she just knew it was _him_. She could feel the pulsating lifeline shoot from her fine fingertips, down to the blaring beacon between her legs. 

You see, _they_ were connected, yoked in mind, soul and hopefully bodies. Or atleast, that was what she believed.

“Will you not finish your thought, miko? I am waiting,” the Lord of the Western Lands vocalized, scanning the trio until he recognized a fragile blush creep across the faces of the females.

“I, uh—”

“Good morning, Sesshomaru-sama!”

No sooner than a fine boot-clad toe had traversed the worn threshold, the electric pulse had ejected Rin to her feet, moving to prostrate at his own.

“Rin,” he stated, staring down at the child before looking over to the seated mikos. 

“Lord Sesshomaru, ye hath arrived much earlier this week,” Kaede uttered gradually, “A welcome surprise for Rin.”

The old woman spoke the truth: Sesshomaru had paid her in their weekly visits only a few days prior. It was too soon for his return — only pressing business could prompt the Lord to leave his humble feudal estate.

“I have business just outside the village this morning,” he reported flatly.

“Lord Sesshomaru, we were just talking about your arrangements for the new tutor,” Kagome ventured as fluently as possible. 

“I already told you not to concern yourself with this, miko,” his voice did not ever seem to navigate away from such steely disdain. “Rin will learn more of arts and language.”

Both mikos paused, detecting a modest readjustment and uneasiness from her apprentice in the periphery. The lull punctuated the delicacy in approaching the demon Lord with their questions.

Finally the younger miko slashed at the silence.

“Sesshomaru-sama,” she started, “ _Rin_ was asking me and Kaede why focus on such skills?”

_Now why would she fib like this!_

Ears now scorched ardently under his turned gaze. There was no time for annoyance nor anger at the young miko for taking such liberties with her words.

“If Rin has questions, then _Rin_ should ask her lord directly,” he coolly responded, peering directly at the child.

“Does _Rin_ have any more questions?”

“Hai, Sesshomaru-sama.” Her words could only be mild and sweet; more honeyed prose was not for the privy of the mikos.

With a perfunctory gesticulation of a clawed finger, Rin was relieved to know her lordship wished to talk to her in delicate privacy, rather than in the presence of the mikos.

He always walked several paces ahead, apparent sweeping strides made by impossibly long legs. Rin always wished to see her Lord’s long muscular legs — an excuse to have him remove his hakama and burden her with such a glorious sight. 

He paused, having navigated to the spacious entryway. Not quite the ideal spot for privacy; yet, her Lord could request any place if it entailed being submerged in his presence, a welcome luxury. She could become lost, and drown in it; it did not matter, he could resurrect her without Tenseiga.

“Rin, did you have honest inquiries,” he started, eyes hunting for the slightest flinch or gesticulation of dishonesty. Humans always had a tell: crisp sweat would puncture the air, quickened heart rates. On his ward, inordinate brown eyes would enlarge while toylike lips would melt into a thin line. 

“— Or were the mikos simply prying for information?”

Rin paused, taking in his words. While Kagome-chan _did_ fabricate a claim, the teen could not deny her own inquisition gnawing at her teeth and lips. 

_Who is this strange person? Why is my Lord so hasty to have someone so new in my life?_

A small part of herself took pride in her restraint, her _maturity_ from bombarding her good Lord with inane questioning of his intentions and plans. It demonstrated the good faith she put into her Lord’s care of his ward.

“No, no! I was only asking Kaede-san and Kagome-chan a few questions,” she replied, now her turn to search listless amber eyes for a hint of emotion.

“I, uh, didn’t think I would, uh, see you so soon to ask anything. I thought Kaede and Kagome cou—”

Sesshomaru briefly waved his hand, a stately flick of his wrist that signaled the adolescent girl to pause.

“Rin may ask then. The mikos know nothing more than what I tell them anyway.”

His voice was softened, less grandiose than his usual stately baritone.

“Oh, I, uh, just wondered what this new tutor is for.”

Sesshomaru cocked his head, almost to convey his own bemusement at a previously answered question. Perhaps the child needed more depth.

“You are to learn human arts and language,” he sniffed, reading the bewilderment in her eyes. 

“Knowledge of prose, literature, the larger world,” the demon lord continued, “Song and dance, if that would please you too.”

Rin opened her mouth and paused, her reticence prompting another remarkable bout of patience from the good lord. 

“Go on and ask, Rin.”

Bitingly, the adolescent couldn’t resist pondering why these tasks required an entire new being in _their_ lives?

Were the mikos not learned women? Not just in the manners of life that decades of experience bear, but in scholarly arts too? 

Kaede-san was a guardian of the temple, with its infinite kanji and hiragana scrolls. And before the apprentice miko found permanent residency in their current time, she often mentioned being in school, respite with the hardbound scrolls with text and pictures. 

_And she was learning with_ boys _at that!_

“I, uh, just wonder why Sesshomaru-sama no longer needed Kagome or Kaede-san for that.”

Another wave of a delicate clawed hand. 

“Their literacy does not make them well-read,” he simply replied.

Besides, the Lord of the Western Lands did not need their impractical gormless sentiments to take up precious space in his ward’s knowledge bank. 

The rationale made sense to Rin; her lord was never one to be illogical. No matter the ability to read and write — much better than she at any rate — the fatal flaw of the two mikos was their very lack of knowledge. 

The older miko knew little of the world outside of her own, congested with the metaphysical, unearthly creatures and old age that only knew these Western lands; she had no use of prose nor poetry in her constellation of existence. 

The time-traveling miko had access to information, bound in the books from her futuristic era, she too had no use for travel and artistic wisdom — both ancient and modern. 

Rin could recall the young woman’s own fumbling in explaining content from one book; a world war that would end in their precious country being lit aflame. The exasperated miko could not explain what the term _nuclear_ even meant, nonetheless how a itty metal thing could cause such a fuss.

 _“Feh, I bet you I could have stopped that shit,”_ Rin remembered the silver-haired hanyō offered. 

Inuyasha had glanced at the picture before dropping the book into the dust to fold red sleeved arms behind his head — much to the irritation of his miko mate. _“One good_ bakuryūha _and_ tuh! _— I’d be in that useless book too.”_

Unlike his crude younger brother, Rin was relieved her Lord appreciated the merit of education and fine speech.

“Sesshomaru-sama, why right now,” the adolescent pressed, as to which he brought a clawed finger to his cheek, shrugging in a rare gesture of informality.

“You are of a good age to learn these things.”

“Other girls in the village that are my age do not learn these things,” the adolescent mumbled, her eyes following a lone crawling bug with her foot.

Amber eyes abruptly cut downwards at the child; if it were not for the gaunt curve he donned on his lips, the lord would undoubtedly be misread as angered. Instead, he was _amused_ at the adolescent’s thoughts.

“You... _desire_ to be regarded as the same as the other girls in the village,” the Lord of the Western Lands half scoffed, repeating the words back slowly, as if he misunderstood her meaning.

“That’s not wha—“

“—You wish to toil and bronze under the noon sun with the crops? Or play in the day’s grime without hot bath?”

Rin furrowed her brow, eliciting a light chuckle from her lord. The girl-child was not amused at his bantering jest; yet, to see her Lord’s eyes illuminate with such playful mirth — Rin could hardly locate her breath. 

“You are not in the same designation as ‘other girls in the village’,” he rasped, punctuating his words with a playful, light tap of a clawed hand against her head, “You are different.”

Despite the feel of a pale hand caressing her hair, she burned to know more.

“These things your new tutor will teach you will place you in a favorable position.”

_For what?_

_Why? How?_

“Do you have more questions, Rin?”

Her tongue was arid, lapping at air in search of words in the form of her own inquiries, quenching a desire for more than the unknown.

“No, Sesshomaru-sama.”

With the affirmation that his ward had no further inquiries, the Lord retracted his pale hand from its’ perch on her cheek.

“I must go then. I will return to see you at our usual time, Rin.”

In a bustle of white-silk and fur, he had gracefully exited the structure and took to the sky, leaving only Rin and his touch that still seared at her cheek.

Before the lord’s arrival, Rin wondered many things. Who was the strange new tutor — was it a woman? Why did the mikos trade whispers about noble ladies — was her tutor a noblewoman? 

What _exactly_ did Kaede-san intend with those words?

The electric charge surged, spreading the red blush from her ears towards her round cheeks.

Did they mean that _she_ was to be a lady, the wife of a Lord? Her heart quickened at thought of the only man she knew with such title.

The thoughts bore a hole in her conscious mind, collapsing down the back of her throat with no visit to her mouth. 

Despite their innate, _intimate_ connection, Rin was hesitant to admit she never quite knew the designations of her Lord.

Yet, she had faith and fidelity in his designations; the intricate pattern he wove for her life, _their_ life, was not yet visible from her meager perspective. 

One day, when he would lift her from their shared bed, into pale arms and ascend into the clouds. From the air, they both could look down at the life he had built for them.

* * *

The youngest pup was the first to detect the potent scent, flopped ears visibly animated as she harkened the distinctive crunch of fallen leaves underfoot.

The pup squirmed in the arms of her older sister, who cradled the child as they rested on the mildewy futon. Barely a few biological years from being weaned, the youngest hanyō was still often underfoot under the adults in her pack.

 _"Būbū_ ,” the puppy whispered, shifting to prod the blonde next to her. “Do you smell that?”

The drowsy half-demoness barely responded to the edged jabs of childish fingers, eliciting barely audible murmurs and words.

“Hm, the sun...not...up,” the eldest mouthed, eyes still closed and full lips left slightly parted. 

A forceful poke to the cheek cracked one blue eye, perhaps tinged red from lack of sleep. 

The two elder siblings, sister and brother, had remained awake until the moon hung low in the western sky; the duo oscillated between trading harsh, disquieted whispers and frequent glimpses out of the dilapidated door.

“Oda, there’s two of them!” The child whispered, pushing on her forearms to raise her head from the futon.

Now two light eyes peered at the child, with heavy brows furrowed over them, troubled at those words. The eldest half-demoness abruptly lifted her head towards the door, then the pup.

“Two _what_ , Shiraz?”

“Two demons,” The pup gulped, “I can smell _and_ hear them outside coming close to here.”

The blonde made little procrastination in scrambling to her feet, body still calibrating to such an unexpected state of wakefulness. 

It had been evident from the pup’s first moments that her senses would be enhanced, evidenced by twitching black folds tufted in cottony fur on top of her head and a nose that remained cold. At the pup’s birth, some had indicated that at least _one_ of their mother's hanyō brood had inherited more demon traits. 

Simply, genetics seemed to be fickle. The dog-eared pup contrasted their mother's last pup, a seemingly ordinary boy with ordinary senses, save orange-gold eyes and a sole body marking; the eldest girl had her claws and canine teeth, with senses between the human and youkai nature. 

Within the moment the blonde oriented her conscious mind to being awake, the scents had become distinct. 

So, there _were_ two youkai. The sweeping pride at the pup's keen olfaction was extinguished by the alarm of hostile demons approaching the simple hut. 

She had little time to query if their scent neutralization was ineffective to these youkai. Such thoughts were of little significance either: unexpected visitors in the early moments of dawn were not auspicious. 

Human or youkai, they knew little of the potential power nor plans and purpose; it could be two traveling pedestrians simply bypassing, or those with murderous intent. 

While it was certainly not wise to act —and make their presence known, until such intentions were clear, the older half-demoness could not weigh the risk of being undefended.

In a mere fraction, Oda had made her way to the closet weapon, a _skeggøx_ with a short engraved wooden handle, a gift from her mother’s Norseman first lover; they had used the tool to twain open their latest meal, an unlucky hare, before making use of claws to clean the innards.

It would have seemed that in the same moment the eldest had yanked the axe from the table, the male hanyō had found himself at his feet, as if he had been privy to the entire conversation from his position across the room.

Kneeling, his right hand possessed his usual long _shamshir_ backsword, the other had completed some adjustment at his boots. 

_Did he think...?_

“Kazuo!” Oda hissed through a whisper, “The hell are you doing? _Stay here_!” 

Tiger-orange eyes had already anticipated the words and actions of his sisters, and thus commanded a deafening look of finality. 

Surely, his older sister stalked over as quietly as her cold furor and apprehension of discovery would permit. 

He knew his elder sister all too well.

“Both you and I heard Shiraz,” he declared, jutting his strong chin out, “There are two demons just outside, ready to do _Allah_ knows what—”

“We don’t know _who_ they are or _what_ they came to accomplish,” Oda mouthed indignantly, “Let us wait to see wh—”

“ _No._ ”

 _Of_ course _he would say that._ Oda could not expect anything less of her younger brother than to summon _that_ sort of response.

While she often attempted to rationalize and praise her brother for his noble chivalry, she also questioned it. Within one inhale, Kazuo’s scent revealed much more than what history or words could explain. 

Her brother was in constant quest to substantiate both his worth and claim to his heritage and alpha position among siblings. Thus, the half-demoness could barely diffuse consistent irritation with the barely-grown, pup of young man.

However, she rarely had temperamental words for her brother — or anything for that matter. Her mood rarely fluctuated, even in anger; a gift from her mother. 

But in this moment, she had to make her displeasure known.

“They most likely cannot even detect we are _fucking_ here,” the blonde hissed, grasping on to the adolescent’s right arm.

In shaky gestures, the two hanyō siblings struggled to overpower the other; the half-demoness with her steady firm hand on his arm wielding the weapon, while the adolescent demon attempted to resist his sisters’ pulls.

A whiny sob from the raven-haired puppy interrupted their squabble.

“You guys! — They’re walking towards us!” the child half-shrieked, launching at and successfully grabbing her eldest sisters’ pants.

The simple gesture of the pup was enough for the demon boy to break free and dash towards the simple door.

“Stay with Shiraz,” he huffed as he crossed the threshold, “ _I_ will take care of them and protect you both.”

She knew her brother too well.

“Yes, sister, please stay with me,” the pup exclaimed, increasing her tight grip to her sisters’ breast.

Oda only had the opportunity to offer her brother a quick snarl, before lifting the pup to retreat into the corner of the hut, preparing for _their_ next move. 

She did not have the luxury of risking her life or that of their youngest sister in order to trail him. Their mother may have already made the foolhardy mistake of leaving the den for four moons now. The half-demoness would not make the same one.

“Oda, big sister?”

“Yes?”

“You know if he dies, it’ll give us enough time to distract them while we run.”

The sentiment, the very contemplation of such a thought wallowed in her gut, a virus clenching its grip around her potentially imminent fears.

Her brother was a skilled swordsman, on par with, perhaps even surpassing the ability of the human males he spent his _qurchi_ training with. But, this would not contend with such powerful yōki, she was sure of it.

She _did_ know her brother.

All too well.

* * *

Rumination was not an innate act for youkai. The very existence of demon-kind was predicated on their intuitive reflexes, millennia upon millennia of crafted instinct. 

The demonic philosophy was simplistic, a drive of pure id to consume, dispose and multiply; self-interest protected their way of life. There was no need to contemplate and mull over dilemmas, other than which competing desire to fulfill that day.

Thus, the daiyoukai found very little gratification in being compelled to even _contemplate_ the offer of the swarthy demoness. Adding insult to the contentious injury, this Lord was expected to approach _her_ , instead of the demoness prostrating at _his_ feet at _his_ domicile.

Naturally, the circumstances bothered him immensely. There was bravado, and then there was insubordination. 

With each acre of woods whirling underneath him as he took to the air, the more Sesshomaru decided that the demoness' manner had teetered into the latter category. 

“The nerve, the relentless... _gall_ of that shrew,” the imp groused loudly in the direction of his lord’s ear. “The very impropriety to have a peon address you outside of your court!”

This lord didn’t require the brainless prattle of Jaken in his rear, to reach the very same conclusion. 

Sesshomaru released a sigh, overcoming the inclination to shake the imp loose from his mokomoko and cascade to the ground below. 

No matter the level of insult to his superior social status, they were still en route to the supplied coordinates. Besides, the Lord of the Western Lands was not a fool; he had established that mere amicable gestures aided in diplomacy.

A few years ago, he would have cut down the demoness for her cheek. His thoughts briefly turned to the possibility of a brutal clash of their skill, pondering on her impressive yoki. 

While Tafsut certainly was not regarded as a daiyoukai in any local lore, the unique qualities of her yoki was unseen in his own experience. 

_Perhaps after further negotiation, I could elicit a spar with the demoness._

He could only muse as he ascended downwards, soles touching the earth near a dilapidated hut. For a moment, the Lord understood, perhaps even _empathised_ with the demon mother’s urgency to place her child as his ward. 

Whether from meters away or in close range, the apparent dwelling of the demoness and her brood was a hovel. A distinct juxtaposition from the lifestyle of a whoring imperial lapdog, and presumably overindulged half-breeds.

“Lord Sesshomaru, is _this_ the residence of the woman?” The imp had made his way from the trailing fur to the ground as well, his words a violent whisper.

Sesshomaru flung the imp a vaguely disapproving glance. There was no need to vocalize his lordly displeasure at the very implication that _he_ , Sesshomaru, had identified the wrong location.

“Why, my Lord, this woman lives in _squalor_.”

“Which is not of my concern,” Sesshomaru quipped. He inhaled the crisp autumn wind, seeking the distinct botanical oil scent of the demoness in the air. 

Solely the whirling fragrances of decaying wood, moistness of the surrounding forest, and perhaps low level youkai, were detected, eliciting a rumbling growl from the daiyoukai. 

“Where—“

“My liege, according to the late Lord’s scrolls, the Édi can diminish the scent of their yōki if need be,” Jaken interceded, before his master’s ire could be stoked at the demoness’ further insult.

The Lord of the Western Lands would have been a complete fool to not gather data on the woman and her curious breed. 

Barring the female’s strange facial markings and coloring, he recalled her appearance being remarkably similar to humans, even more so than his own. The demoness’ canines were shorter than most, her eyes a softer shade of amber with a more rounded pupil.

Compounded with the ability to only partially conceal their scent, the skill to camouflage into humankind was a surprising defense tactic, Sesshomaru had contended. A survival mechanism ingrained into their genetics, no doubt.

Or perhaps an offensive technique, designed to assist in assaults requiring stealth and subterfuge. For a moment, the demon lord contemplated placing a clawed hand on the hilt of his token sword.

_Diplomacy, Sesshomaru. You must incorporate the skill._

The young lord sighed, an exhale with double meaning as he responded to both internal self-talk and irritation of his own Lordship...approaching the _commoner_.

“She and her brood may still be in their nightly resting,” he supplied, turning an amber eye to the purple-gold sky of dawn. 

“Come, Jaken. We will venture inside to speak to the woman.”

Within a few meters of the hut, Sesshomaru and his valet paused. It would seem they would have no reason to venture inside, he almost rejoiced as an indistinct shadowy figure lurched from the doorway.

_Diplomacy, indeed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Five chapters in, 3939393 more to go! Their intended last place of residence was Safavid Iran, which was a Turco-Persian Islamic empire during the 16th century. I tried to best reflect that in their references of their "land" (e.g., the mix of Arabic, Classical/Old Persian, and Turkish vocab words they use, their style of dress; etc). They retain some of mom's culture via their weapons, and choice of indigo and other blues in their dress. Explicit info on the OCs and their backgrounds are weaved in next chapters, but I think it's clear the children are multiracial with different fathers from different backgrounds.
> 
> Glossary and info on old-timey/foreign terms:
> 
> Ḥabashī = Classical Persian/Farsi for inhabitants of Northeast and Horn of Africa. Women from this region were commonly imported as slaves and traded as concubines, but were considered very rare to imperial harems.  
> Circassian = Used in antiquity to refer to indigenous Slavic people from the Caucus mountains, which is now apart of modern day Russia. Circassian women were highly sought after in Safavid and Ottoman imperial harems, wanted for their light complexions and hair colors.  
> Qurchi =   
> Rus' = Used in antiquity to refer to Russians and other Slavic people; women also desired in imperial harems.  
> shamshir = a long curved sword, characteristic of Islamic empires


	6. Malaise

_When autumn came_

_My eyes clearly_

_Could not see it, yet_

_In the sound of the wind_

_I felt it._

_—_ Fujiwara no Toshiyuki Ason (10th Century)

_Orange, red and gold._

_She had wished someone would have told her. At the very least, introduce the color scheme, prepare her for its permanence in her life._

_She had needed that knowledge in explicit words, not hidden messages cached into stolen glances and vague scents on the wind._

_At first, the colors vexed her._

_The melange of disappointment, resentment, perhaps shame that languished in an apricot gaze. She did her best to ignore them, following her,_ judging _her._

 _She did not know when or_ why _she started liking it. Perhaps, it was the gold threaded silk that hung around her waist, one that was eyed with envy, want, passion from other pools of cider gold. Burning red hot desire perforating into her back._

_But, by now? She didn’t quite mind the juxtaposing monotony of such boisterous colors, now did she?_

_Gold eyes sinking, diving,_ delving _, just reading archive after archive of her every curious thought and fantasy._

_The orange haze he made her see in sweet night time bliss. Ruby markings on cheeks, dripping in sweat that rubbed against her own._

_Soon, it would encompass her life more and more._

_Carmine markings on arms that enveloped a swollen belly. Platinum, white-gold locks curling around little features._

_Orange flames. Red, red, crimson blood._

_She had wished someone would have told her much sooner._

* * *

The figure was most unimpressive to the Lord of the Western Lands.

Average stature, a routine human menacing a weapon in an attempt to bulwark over some meager territory. In this case, it seemed to be an unwanted, dilapidated hut. However, even with a strange curved blade pointed at his visage, the Lord remained unaffected and unconcerned with such trifle.

“Come no closer,” it squawked.

The sight of humans bearing weapons, imperiled at the very thought of a demon, did not move the Lord. 

The act was indeed commonplace, nearly a rite of passage into demonhood; all sentient youkai could recount some _opposition_ from the weaker race of being.

For the daiyoukai, this had been an ordinary experience of his youth, especially in places barely outside the reach of his Western lands. However, newer days made instances as such a rarity in his lordly existence.

Whether through show of force or scanty acts of benevolence, the humans of _his_ lands comprehended their place. Thus, only an uncultured, foolish human outside his lands would make this lowly threat.

“Who are you, demon?” Again, it dared to speak, no _demand_. Sesshomaru allowed a scoff escape from his throat.

“Identify yourself, or I will strike you down,” the figure barked again, the distinct stumble of a newly acquired language dropping from its’ lips.

The Lord of the Western Lands was not a demon who could consciously contend with trivial humans, nonetheless engage them in _fighting_ . As if _he_ , a daiyoukai, would dare waste the effort to lengthen a claw against an unworthy adversary.

“Who I am is none of your concern, _ningen_ ,” he replied smoothly, “I simply must have received the wrong location.”

By no means it could be the fault of the Lord for locating the incorrect hut. It was evident that the pontifical wench had supplied the wrong location to his mother. 

“She is not here,” the demon lord stated the imp at his feet.

Sesshomaru did not have to prompt his valet to trail behind as he pivoted to take leave. In a few quick strides, white fur and ornate robes slipped into the trees.

 _Well, that seemed to be straightforward._

In his zeal to protect his lower ranking pack members, Kazuo was not necessarily _prepared_ for a lack of challenge — or even retreat from the opposing party. 

The silver haired youkai simply murmured few words, and glided away on foot. No exchange of heated words nor blades.

Now, Kazuo stood outside the hut, blade listless in his grip. In his mind, this could only mean one of two ideals. 

The tall youkai had sensed what a superb swordsman, what quality of great, ancient, _noble_ breed of youkai blood sprinted throughout his veins, and thought retreat was best.

Or, perhaps, the demon _was_ mistaken. Mental imagery of the valiant Kazuo in his armor, flanked by beautiful _cariye_ and gold, faded into the reality of the empty woods in front of him.

The demon’s last words swirled in his mind. A mistaken youkai was a non-hostile one, he concluded. But what female could the youkai be potentially looking for? 

The youkai were both strange: a tiny green imp, and a stately, tall one, with long silver locks. The silver haired one wore silk, a fabric he had not seen on youkai since their mother’s petition, no _beggard_ behavior at the feet of a pale woman.

In the thought of silver locks and calculated tone, the tall youkai registered as recognizable to the hanyō. 

He could not explicitly connect the two, but he could ascertain _something_. 

The mere iota of recognizability was enough to prompt him to sheath the sword in its proper place at his hip, and pursue the silver-haired youkai.

If his mother were present, she would only toss him a look of cynicism, misunderstanding how _any_ creature with human blood could have a so-called accurate intuition —including her own children.

But, she wasn’t present, no was she? So, now the duty of leadership in confirming who this demon was, was now left in the hands of her only hanyō son.

* * *

“Have we been deceived? Why, Lord Sesshomaru, I always said that woman was—” 

There was no doubt that the imp servant by his side would have many disparaging words about the situation to share with his lord.

“Jaken, set your attention to ascertaining if there are other residences here,” the Lord drawled, certainly indifferent to his valet’s hardship in both tending his lord’s ego and keeping up with long strides.

“Could...we not...take to air, Sesshomaru-sama?” The imp huffed, certainly the sounds of breathing issues. “We would have...better view of—”

Sesshomaru paused, a relatively kind gesture to the valet through allotting time for his faithful servant to catch up.

“—What purpose would I have wasting my energy to ease the burden of yours,” the Lord verbalized, eyes brimming with irritation.

However, the short rest proved to be much advantageous for both the imp and inuyoukai. In the draft, Sesshomaru detected the distinct odor of _that_ human trailing them.

For a moment, the Lord was _almost_ intrigued. It smelled distinctly human, tinged with the scent of youkai that he had not detected prior. 

Perhaps, the pitiful creature had the bravado to eliminate a lesser youkai in following him. Yet, he would have detected that squabble as well. 

Intrigue morphed into perplexion, as long jumps brought the human just within eyesight of the Lord, who stood expectant regency.

As the figure lurched forward, further into the light of daybreak, Sesshomaru could fully decipher the figure. 

A boy, on the cusp of manhood, perhaps sixteen. He possessed tufts of fine, soft dark waves, and skin that seemed as if he spent some time in the sun from the recent summer season. The dirtied garb on the boy was indigo and strange.

“You are _the_ Lord of the Western Lands, are you not,” the boy breathed, slanted orange eyes scanning the daiyoukai once more.

A low growl provided accidental confirmation, eliciting sudden mirth on the boy’s countenance.

“What business do you have here,” the imp at his feet snarled, startled by the boy’s prostrating bow.

“I am humbled to be in your presence, Lord,” the boy continued, head hung in veneration.

“Rise,” the daiyoukai asserted forcefully, “What reason did you have to follow me, _boy_.” 

“I am Kazuo, and my mother—”

Sesshomaru was partially disconcerted as the boy’s eyes advanced to his own, a clear orange-gold color with sharp pupils. 

_Mother_ ? Was this child of demon stock? _Kami_ — had the dalliances and folly of his own lordly youth embroiled him with some bastard half-breed?

No, no. The creature had emerged from the hut of the imperial lapdog. Perhaps —

“—Tafsut of the _Edì_ , said you would grace us with your lordly presence and guidance and I am, again, humb—”

So, it was apparent that this ordinary child was clearly one of her brood, sent to further _her_ agenda. Sesshomaru suppressed his need to balk at the creature.

“Your mother,” Sesshomaru interrupted, cleaving through whatever oration the boy had prepared to harangue the Lord’s ears, “ _Where_ is your mother?”

The boy wavered, as a child pausing in recited speech. “I, uh, well, _we_ don’t know, we hav—“

“—What do you mean you ‘do not know’, boy,” the Lord pressed, displeasure grating at his own steel nerve and that of his diplomacy skills.

“We haven’t seen her in days,” Kazuo gulped.

“Tell me the truth.” 

“I-I am, my lord. She returned from the castle in the sky with your name,” the boy continued, “—told us she had business to attend to and left. That was four nights prior.”

“And she did not say when she would return,” the imp drawled, “Or what to do if she did not?”

Kazuo shook his head.

The boy’s affect was certainly convincing: albeit his efforts to maintain the dauntlessness of some awarded gladiator, Sesshomaru could detect the apprehension and alarm in the boy’s tone.However, his valet asked piqued pertinent questions.

What would prompt the demoness to leave with no word of return to her children? 

The very brood of half-breeds that she so _valiantly_ sired and trawled across continents as if some merchant. All so she could brandish her feminine wares to the wealthiest bidder, in exchange for comfort and luxury. Despite the Lord’s antipathy for the demoness’ way of life, he surely doubted her ethos would be _abandonment_. No, her demands in the care for her pups had demonstrated that.

“Our last words were on how the Lord of the Western Lands would train me,” the boy exhaled, a soft smile trenching the previous distress and melancholy. “And here you are before me.”

The smile departed from the boy’s lips as quickly as it emerged, a response to the growing grimace on the lord’s face.

“ _Train_ you?” The Lord scoffed. “Is _that_ what she told you?”

“Uh, yes, my Lord. She said you would come to us.”

Amber eyes narrowed. Did the demoness take him, Lord of the Western _fucking_ Lands, as some witless fool?

“Ha-have I displeased your Lordship in some way?”

He was not ignorant to Tafsut’s designs, to elevate her damned brood in _his_ lands. He was regarded as a tolerant demon lord, open to youkai and human respectfully residing in his lands. The demoness identified being inuyoukai as a utility, believing their shared blood as the same species to be an advantage, coupled with the acquaintanceship of his mother. 

Ambition knew no limits — he was in no doubt that the demoness would take advantage of such civil unrest to claim land for herself.

It was no enigma that Tafsut applied her glib charm and promises in order to supply her heir, _her son_ , with such position and advantage in the Lord’s ranks. Did the haughty demoness fancy herself as above the station of a governess? 

The Lord of the Western Lands supposed if the demoness could not use her cunt to advance in a new land, she would use her child.

“I gave you a chance to give me the truth, boy,” Sesshomaru grated, a snarl of displeasure tugging at his lips. “I’ll ask again. Where is your mother?”

While perhaps the Lord could marginally appreciate the stratagem of the woman — perchance, she would have made an excellent strategic advisor for governing proposals and suitors of his ward. 

“I told you all I know, my lord.”

However, this slight admiration was overshadowed: the manipulation, the ambition of the demoness and her brood _incensed_ him.

So, she wished to expedite and sway their negotiation by sending her son? The bitch believed that she could bend the will of the Lord, perhaps appeal to the rare compassion she had witnessed, if he just saw the boy.

If rumination was not in the nature of youkai, then neither was naiveté.

“Is she still in that dilapidated hut? Does she _avoid_ conversation with her Lord?”

The soundlessness between the trio was damning, as the boy searched for his words.

Despite a self-serving chase of the demon lord, Kazuo understood his role. He could not divulge the presence of his siblings at the hut — whatever ire the demon lord had, would be directed towards himself, not his innocent sisters.

“I-I told you all I know, my lord.”

“I cannot say that I believe your words, _hanyō_.”

The words of his devoted valet tipped the scale of the Lord’s growing sentiments, as he stalked towards the boy with narrowed eyes.

“ _Feh!_ The boy lies,” Jaken croaked, “Just like his _whore_ mother!”

Kazuo spun towards the imp, this time _his_ eyes were narrow, a bark tarrying in his throat, only restrained by the very chance that the servant misspoke.

“ _What_ did you just say,” he hissed, the potential insult piercing the armor of his familial honor. 

“ _Whore_ ,” Jaken gladly repeated, “Is that not what concubines like your mother do—”

The blade by the young hanyo’s hip found itself free of its sheath, advancing a path towards the imp. The boy yearned to make the amphibian regret his scornful words, _pay_ for such insult; the demon in him wished to taste the lesser youkai’s blood splatter across his face, the fallen leaves, the forest floor.

A dream deferred. 

The belligerent swing of his blade only encountered the resistance of another blade. Before Kazuo could calibrate his wits to such a tactile defense move, a swift booted kick met his chest. 

The morning aurora gyrated above him, a scintillating dance of purple and fading black along the edges. The moving colors momentarily distracted him from the hollow, expectant pangs in his upper body. 

A deafening throb shot from the back of his skull to his tailbone, where his head and body met the ground at impact. He suspected the assailant had surely caused nimble blows with his blade. Yet, slow touches on these sensitive spots, seeking blood, confirmed something far worse. 

The daiyoukai had _kicked_ him. And with such force that he and his blade now laid meters away, defeated. 

Turning eyes southward, he could see the silver creature gliding towards him. In one blink, gold eyes were no longer at such distance; instead, they listlessly peered down at him in venerated disdain.

“You have much bravado to raise your sword to _my_ vassal, _pup_ ,” the Lord sneered, tutting the blade in the hanyō’s direction to emphasize his scolding of the child.

Before Kazuo could sit up, look at the lord with proper challenge, a boot met his chest, pressing down on the sensitive area, eliciting a strangled cry from the boy.

Sesshomaru examined the boy, struggling under his boot. _This_ was the creature that the demoness insisted he spend precious time to mentor? To hone its’ weak yoki?

 _Heartbreaking_ , _that she places such faith in this pup._

“Your mother _begged_ me to take you into my tutelage,” the Lord continued, twisting his heel further into the boy’s chest, “And this is how you present your best manner?”

Kazuo winced at the pressure. “Lord, it would still be an honor. I reacted poorly, but your vassal in—”

“—Insulted your honor?” Sesshomaru scoffed, tapping the edge of his blade against the pulse of the boy’s neck.

“If you are so keen to live up to your _honor_ , I dare you to attempt to best this Sesshomaru.”

As the adolescent strained against the injurious compression of a noble boot to his chest, Sesshomaru suppressed a chuckle, instead a derisive scoff.

_Pathetic, indeed._

So enveloped in his own mirth, did he not expect the broiling sting of a whip _puncturing_ at his blade-bearing arm. Nor did he expect his own lordly countenance to twist with... _surprise_?

* * *

The diminished, no, _departing_ scent of the two youkai was fresh on her nostrils, a welcome kiss against the gold hoop that clung to her left nostril. No longer could she hear the squawks of her brother’s demands nor his faint scent of shared blood outside of their residence. 

_Did they retreat?_

A silent peek through a gap in the primitive flap confirmed her thoughts. They were all gone. Did they take her brother as captive? Or worse, a _meal_?

While she did not detect spilled hanyō blood nor curdling screams, Oda could not coerce herself into ignoring the conceivable scenarios surging her inner mind.

The youngest pup’s suggestion to flee, unfortunately, was not of her nature. While her brother thought his male sex posited him as provider and protector, her existence as the eldest made protection of her younger siblings _her_ duty. 

Even if it entailed trailing the faintest inkling of an odor into the woods.

“Stay here,” Oda plummeted the command at the youngest pup, despite the loud whimpers from the child. 

“ _Please_ don’t leave me,” sobs fell from the child’s lips, as did the threat of tears. For a moment, Oda faltered. 

Tears were rare in their pack: even in hardship, there was relatively little to fear with their mother’s counsel, Kazuo’s daring, Shiraz’s exuberance, and her own skill of tact.

But now, the foursome had been three, parsed down to two and soon to be one.

“I will do _everything_ in my power to return to you,” Oda stated, peeling away from the child.

The finality was sealed as she placed a kiss on the pup’s forehead and the _skeggøx_ into the child's empty, yet grasping hands, hungry to keep hold on to her sister’s breast. 

“If anything approaches with ill intent, _use_ it.”

The scorpion tail _zagāya_ in her grip assisted as she bounded through the forest, the scent of kinship and a powerful yōki guiding her keen nose.

Oda knew she was a ridiculous sight: a wild mass of hair, dirty face and body, barefoot, donning only a short embroidered jacket and sirwal haphazardly thrown over the muslin sleeveless shift of her sleep.

Only for a moment did she consider to slow down. 

The half-demoness often possessed the opinion that her best inherited trait was her composed demeanor, vaunting her ability to make sensible, collected decisions and her aversion to dally in nonsensical folly. Well, _without good reason_ of course.

She was not a cold inanimate being, exhibiting a fair bit of human affability that made her a well-regarded young maid amongst the women in the harem. However, rash decisions and suddenly intrusive emotions were simply not of her realm of being.

What was it in this new unfamiliar land that prompted her to become so... _foolish_ and uncharacteristically brash? She had failed to heed her own words and remain hidden as she so casually proposed mere minutes ago. 

What prompted her to abandon such rhetoric, in order to chase down and later nag her own brother for his foolhardy behavior?

Perhaps, it was the relative lack of danger in their previous life. Tumultuous eras from pup years were long forgotten. In the security of silk finery, full bellies, arts, privilege and routine filings of claws, did she forget the innate rousing beast within, too, had a voice?

Or perhaps, it was the reverberating sound of iron and steel, a discernible boyish yelp and the crack of soft, still growing bones meeting hard forest ground that only galvanized her bounds through the dense trees.

The sight from her perch a few meters away incensed the half-demoness. Her brother, Kazuo, under the black _tabi_ boots of the taller figure, with a _damn_ blade listlessly tracing the pulse of his neck. 

Oda grinded her canines at the sight, lacking any obliviousness to just _whom_ physically subjugated her brother. Her brother may have possessed blind admiration, her mother trust and faith in the words and sentiment of the daiyoukai mother and son; however, _she_ did not.

With a growl, the half-demoness unbridled her sleeping yōki, prompting canines and claws to ascend slightly; no doubt releasing the feral botanical scent into the air. 

Stretching an ecru hand up and over her shoulder, she located the black marking at the base of her neck. 

The strenuous draw of the wrist produced a black gelatinous liquid that followed the pull of her arm, until the mark disappeared; instead, it pooled and oozed in her palm and down the length of the tree. Similarly, the spear in her hand burst into a flame of red light, searing into a geometric marking on her inner wrist.

Following a light exhale onto the squelching mass, a gold-laden iron ball with spikes formed, traveling down the mass until the metal whip end was complete. 

Bounding to the next tree for closer visibility, the searing gold whip end found itself wrapped around the left forearm of the Lord of the Western Lands, burning through the ivory silk of his kimono and _defacing_ such exquisite pale flesh.

* * *

“Lord Sesshomaru, watch out!” The imp exclaimed, much too far and cowardly to make an attempt to stop the action.

For a moment, the daiyoukai seemed _surprised_ , perchance distracted, too enveloped in his own amusement of goading the boy and negligence of not noticing such an impetuous challenge.

“Shut up and stand away from here, Jaken.”

While the pathetic display of the boy under his boot did bring some mild amusement, Sesshomaru’s sudden detection of the distinct smell of a female youkai —menacing and angry— _thrilled_ him. 

_So, the demoness appears._

Thoughts of engaging in a spar with the strange inuyoukai were hopefully to be realized.

“Ah, so your mother comes out of hiding to save her little boy,” he spat at the boy, glancing up at the lithe figure in the tree.

“Let go of him and I won’t attack further,” the female voiced, respite with an accented drawl and even tone.

Sesshomaru studied the feminine figure, offering a half scoff.

“My, _my_ , have you witnessed better days,” the Lord sneered, casually glancing at the burning whip encasing his hand, turning amber eyes back at the female.

When he witnessed the gold metal chain, Kazuo could only internally wheeze with a resounding chuckle, one that reflected both regalement at the _bravada_ of his sister — a malcontent to everything _he_ did, participating in the very thing she warned him of. 

And of course, the indignation at such hypocrisy. The high and mighty can’t even follow their own damn rules, can they? His elder sister’s presence was both an aggravation, and reprieve. 

“ _Tsk._ Come to rescue your _pitiful_ pup in such a piss poor disguise, Tafsut?”

However, at the mention of his _mother’s_ name, Kazuo painfully craned his neck up to the tree. 

Oda furrowed a brow, her eyes meeting the orange eyes with the same confusion. Why did this traitorous daiyoukai call her by her mother’s name? 

Surely he was not as blind as he was needlessly pompous and hard of hearing, as the demon lord made no move to remove his foot nor weapon from her brother.

“I will not repeat myself, your _Lordship_ ,” she spat, sending a pulse of yōki down the chain to further scorch the flesh of daiyoukai with such corrosive poison.

Instead, the daiyoukai _smiled_. A feral look, bestial and haunting on such a striking pale visage.

“Here then,” Sesshomaru drawled, removing his foot from the boy’s chest. He did not even offer a glance as the weakened boy gasped and crawled towards the safety of the tree. His eyes never left the figure in the tree. 

“You and _this_ Sesshomaru have business to attend to, anyway.”

She had saw a light stream pulse back up through _her_ own weapon. She felt it before even grazing her hand, _knew_ it would immobilize her before reaching her fingertips; the time gave her no time to drop the weapon, forcing her body to fall meters to the ground. 

The millisecond in between the smug smile and the half-demoness’ rough landing on the ground seemed to be much too long. Although her knees tendered the fall, another yank on the chain brought her closer to the daiyoukai; another graceful yank brought the ball and rest of her weapon from her grasp and cast by his side.

“I thought this would be much more... _engaging_ ,” Sesshomaru taunted, heedlessly kicking the discarded ball and chain further behind him.

Weaponless, Oda’s eyes had scanned the ground for her brother’s blade. In a stroke of good fortune and mad dash, she acquired the blade only a few feet from herself.

“Time with those humans have made you soft, _Tafsut_ ,” the demon lord goaded, examining the caustic burns on his left arm. Certainly not the worst injury to befall this arm, he thought. 

However, the Lord of the Western Lands desired to see the female’s full power. Thoughts of the black gelatinous liquid crafting into a blade pressed upon his _other_ lust — the innate appetite and even entertainment in embroiling in physical conflict, war and battle. 

While he did not identify himself as a cruel admirer of unnecessary carnage, the journey of power often made temporary stops to that land. Thus, the demon blade in his left hand thrust downwards towards the demoness, meeting resistance from the curved blade in tanned hands. 

The half-demoness had _narrowly_ resisted his swing, defending herself adeptly.

Did the demoness hold back? Perhaps as deference for her Lord?

No, no. The violent tremble of her muscles demonstrated to the Lord of the Western Land that she would not hold such a defense. He observed the demoness’ face: strained, uncivilized, certainly alluring even in feral motion. The Lord narrowly approached some insight as to why the courtesan was desired.

As his blade lowered against her own, the Lord of the Western Lands narrowly considered softening his assault. In his initial designations, he had wished to further negotiate with the female over her position within his court. However, the demoness’ conniving arrogance and insolence proved a greater foe.

Still, he did not explicitly wish to maim the demoness; only provoke her spirit before declining her insidious offer, and exiling her and her brood from his lands.

Yet, in steel to steel, hearing the female open her mouth and speak, Sesshomaru was able to _truly_ examine her.

“Wonderful thing that I am _not_ my mother then, eh,” he watched the creature spat, insolence saturating each word. 

Despite the gradations of grime on her face and hands, _this_ female’s coloring was several shades fairer than Tafsut, nearly the even color of milled buckwheat from head to bare toes, save few sepia freckles dotting her nose.

Indignant azure eyes met his own, pupils dilated in the excitement of such furor. Were the eyes of the demoness not the same amber color consistent across those with full blood inuyoukai blood? These blue eyes were different.

The female in defense before him did not even smell of full youkai blood, the stench of human odor and days without wash befouling his nose.

It did not require much more data for the apperceptive Sesshomaru to deduce that _this_ female was _not_ his intended target, and was thus his right to ascertain whom she was.

Effortlessly, he disarmed the female with a controlled flick of his blade, flinging the weapon into a tree, eliciting a gasp. 

Yet, he displayed a _détente_ of sorts, parrying his blade back in its sheath, much to the stupefaction of the two hanyous. Once the surprise dissipated, the female clambered over to her brother, a rise of fretful fuss in an unfamiliar foreign tongue as she checked his vitals and body for injury. The boy only responded by whispering against his sibling’s peevish worry, just before it could escalate into a nagging lecture.

“I take it you are _also_ one of Tafsut’s half breeds,” Sesshomaru breathed, eyes settled on the duo.

A flicker of blue eyes at the discarded weapon elicited a haughty grunt from the daiyoukai.

“It is not evident that this Sesshomaru will no longer engage you in offensive tactics,” he scoffed, signaling for the female to rise, “Do you have no answer for this Lord’s inquiry?”

The female turned her eyes towards Sesshomaru. Marginally, he was _intrigued_ with the color; often accustomed to every hue of brown, such blue color was rare among the ningen of the lands and even within the unique colorings of demoness’.

“You almost _maimed_ my brother,” she stated flatly, wild eyes turned towards the demon in order to emphasize such defiance in his unanswered questions, “My _lord_.”

“A boot to the chest is hardly equatable to death,” another scoff from the daiyoukai. “Although that would be a most germane punishment for attacking my valet.”

Sesshomaru found gratification in the look of incredulity and indignation the half-demoness hurled at her brother, preceding a barrage of exasperated foreign tongue.

The female stood, permitting his amber eyes to fully rake over the female and still-seated male. Without the distraction of his arm being sliced by the petulant half-demoness before him, he could clearly envision both offspring’s resemblance to their mother. 

Though both nearly a half of a head taller than the rather petite demoness, Sesshomaru could nearly commend the dirty brats for possessing the favorable looks of a demon parent, as almost all hanyōs did; he could only assume their human fathers did not contribute much outside of coloring and weak blood.

“Understand that it is only my _obligation_ to offer your Lordship a humble apology for my brother’s behavior,” the young woman murmured, a perfunctory bow softening the venom present in such banal formalities. 

It was evident to the Lord that engrained formalities prompted her to respond with such an answer. At the very least, the half-breeds certainly possessed their mother’s sense of decorum when they pleased. 

“ _Hm_ , his insolence to this Sesshomaru is well-noted.” 

“He behaves as an excitable, untrained pup at times,” she continued, accompanying a dissatisfied grunt from the boy.

“Well, the actions of your brother are of little matter to this Lord,” he continued, “The kin who has insulted this Sesshomaru, is your mother for forfeiting our meeting.” 

When his mother had mentioned the demoness and her half-breed pups, Sesshomaru had surely imagined _young_ children, perhaps no older than his ward. The deepening of the boy’s voice and broad chest revealed he was in his last days of boyhood, neither young nor adult. 

However, another conspicuous scour of the female revealed _she_ was anything but a child, as he noticed two well-formed, _large_ mounds of flesh rising and falling under some linen shift and jacket. 

The Lord forcefully navigated his sight back to the faces of the two hanyous, while the derisive thoughts of his inner beast contended the length in time from which he last encountered a young female youkai — such an _appealing_ one at that.

Even with active suppression, the inner beast blissfully prodded his sensibility to just imagine what such _rounded_ curves would look like in his grip, under his licks —

Two clawed fingers waved away both the perfunctory clamor of the female and any obscene images elicited.

“You are simply to provide her whereabouts. My quarrel is not with her children.” The demand was forceful, in alignment with the nature of a great demon lord. 

“I believe he asks only so he can attack her,” the boy hissed, attempting to stand.

“And I believe I asked the female, not _you,_ boy.”

Oda briefly tendered an indignant scowl at her brother, before exhaling. “ _Kazuo_ , please — and we do not know my lord.”

The demon lord grunted, partially unconvinced with such repetitious words. “Your brother has the same exact testimony. What a _convenience_ for you two.”

“We have no reason to mislead you,” Kazuo began, coaxed back into obedience silence with a sole sideways cut of blue eyes. Similarly, a quip from the hidden Jaken was stifled by an amber glare.

“We last saw her four moons ago, my lord,” the eldest offered, “She made no mention of where she was traveling.”

Sesshomaru paused in his customary reserve, only articulating a singular _hm_.

Although he did not doubt the demoness’ capacity to participate in subterfuge, the initial notion that the woman dispatched her children, as she hid in her eagerness to mislead him, seemed... _less_ plausible. 

Yet, the mother’s prerogative did not strike the daiyoukai as one of abandonment of two, _no_ , three children brought over country and sea. Certainly not after adjusting ones’ pride to supplicate for survival — at the feet of _his_ mother, no less.

“She had arrived back from your mother’s castle, my Lord,” the female continued, “She may have returned. Perhaps, my Lordship could lend more knowledge if she is there?”

Yet, her abandonment was certainly no concern of _his_. He sought a tutor and governess of his ward, and instead was confronted by two zealous half-breeds, and news of a disappeared demoness. While the tendered mishap of her whereabouts was certainly disappointing, these overgrown pups could tend to their own survival.

“ _No._ "

The cold reply served as a lamentable bath of ice, certainly soiling the optimism of the hanyous, as the Lord continued in his words. “ _Your_ quest for your own mother does not concern this Sesshomaru.”

Frigidity imploded in the female’s chest, leaving narrowed blue eyes and terse jaw as the daiyoukai beckoned his servant and made movement to turn on his heels in leave.

“I am glad to see how _well_ your Lordship treats his vassals,” Oda emitted, a bitter spelling of words that certainly grated into the daiyoukai’s nerve.

“Agreed, sister,” Kazuo directed to his sister, a murmur filled with cheek, “How a human ended in his care, is a mystery.”

The arrangement of words jabbed at the stately youkai’s ire, present in the sudden furious whirl of white hair.

“You ingrating bastards, _you half breeds,_ dare question the actions of this Sesshomaru?” The daiyoukai had advanced again, gold eyes flashing white-hot. The very insinuation that his lack of care for these _brats_ , had any implication for his ward. 

A sharp squeal broke the lull of anticipation and anger, as Sesshomaru could only expectantly watch as a _third_ figure charged. 

“ _Hey_ , leave ‘em alone!”

Flopped ears jettisoned with each small step, half heartedly flinging an axe, which only landed pitfully on the ground between them.

To his rare astonishment, the Lord found that the child was the only member of the brood to be an _actual_ pup — despite the true age of demons, she was no bigger in size than when he first met Rin. 

_Hm, so_ this _was the brood of the demoness? A girl-pup, adolescent boy and young woman._

There was no wonder she was desperate for placement with the Lord and Lady of the Western Lands. Especially with such headfast, willfully disobedient youth. Why, it was a stroke of good fortune they were not all dead.

“Leave them alone,” the pup hissed again, advancing on the daiyoukai, short of nothing but scrap and raw determination.

“Shiraz, what in God’s name—I told you to stay put!” The boy shouted in his foreign tongue, staggering to his wits to extract the pup from the potentially dangerous situation. Similarly, a clap and hiss from the blonde, a gesture to reel the pup back, was to no avail.

The pup sighed, pausing her advance to look over her shoulder at the elder duo. With the keenest senses of the children, the pup had little doubt in her thinking. She smelled no threat from this looming, overly pretty man.

“You _both_ didn’t stay put and look at what happened,” the pup shook her black waves, glaring back at the daiyoukai. “Now I have to be the one to deal with this _scourge_!”

“I suppose we all do not listen,” Oda snapped, making no move to rescue the pup. Instead, she observed the demon lord’s face. He looked as if he was amused? Did he find their sibling banter and insults to be comical?

Sesshomaru could barely contain a scoffing chuckle at the pup, and the interaction between these haphazard siblings.

As the pup continued her advance, Sesshomaru cast a downward glance, peering down at the two black tufts on the child’s head. When he opened his mouth, he surprised himself at the softness of his tone.

“Do you not fear me, little one?”

Two black braids and flopped ears swung from side to side. 

“ _Bah_ , you don’t smell like anything to fear. You smell of annoyance,” the pup continued, prompting a curious raise of a fine dark gray brow.

Another strong sniff from the pup jabbed at the low silence.

“And _curiousity_..?”

Sesshomaru concealed a growing fondness of the few moments he spent speaking to the pup. While her forward cheek was certainly reminiscent of another bothersome silver-haired hanyō, large eyes attempting menace and such miniscule stature was fairly endearing and amusing to the daiyoukai.

“Your nose is astute, little one,” he half-chuckled, turning eyes at the siblings who cautiously eyed their interaction before flicking back towards the pup near his feet.

“With such better senses than your siblings, have _you_ seen your mother, little one? Your siblings claim she has not been back in residence for days.”

The child paused, as if the lord had uttered magic words.

“No,” she squeaked. Tears threatened to break from wide hazel eyes, “I _do_ miss my mommy.”

Another sigh as Sesshomaru extended a hand; the gesture prompted the older siblings to lurch forward, as if the lord offered poisoned claws to the youngest pup. 

“Don’t!—”

However, a pale hand offered a reassuring pat on the child’s head, ears twitching under his claws. He had not the opportunity to pat another little head like this, not since Rin was still little. 

“Do not cry, hanyo.”

The siblings were admittedly baffled as this great daiyoukai — lord and dominion of acres of land, demon army and human supply— provided _comfort_ to the child.

Oda eyed the action intently. The inner workings, the very rationale as to _why_ the Lord stood behind such callous dialogue with the face of gentle gestures, was certainly disjointed to the half-demoness. Despite his dry formal speech and blank looks, the complexity in the daiyoukai was fascinating to her, to be able to observe such... _human_ compassion. 

Perchance, her mother had been correct about the Lord of the Western Lands.

Yet, as hasty as the moment arrived, the sentimental gesture ended quickly. As he removed a stately hand from the pup’s head, the Lord exhaled and half-turned on his feet, signaling for his silent, watchful valet.

“I suggest you remain in your residence until I return,” the daiyoukai simply stated, words blasély thrown over his turned shoulder at the trio.

“Wha—Where are _you_ going,” Kazuo coughed, orange eyes still harboring skepticism of the daiyoukai that kicked him.

Amber eyes narrowed at the aggravation of such inane questioning at the obvious; a slight, half-turn of the head accompanied, so the boy could at least _see_ his displeasure.

The daiyoukai had already established that such irritation was being prompted to _verbalize_ his rather compassionate designs, indicating he _did_ at least pity their scenario. 

“Wait — yes, where are you heading,” the pup stepped forward, partially trailing the tall figure.

While the eldest two were capable of capturing his ire, it was the youngest pup that he contained some sympathy. 

To be torn from your mother’s watchful eye at such an age was pitiable. A growing reminder of a dirtied little girl approaching him in the woods, with a story of no mother, swirled in his inner mind.

Sesshomaru released an internal growl.

It would seem the demoness’ grand scheme was triumphant.

“Do you all not wish for this Sesshomaru to extract information on your mother from my own?”

“They don’t even thank you properly —”, grumbled the imp.

Yet, brief, enthusiastic nods from the youngest pup were acceptable enough for the Lord, as he envisioned the little girl from years prior. Wide eyes and flopped ears slowly swirled into a vision in a checkered kimono, even as he turned his back and took to the air.

* * *

The siblings waited until the flash of white fur and green imp were both a speck in the morning sky, then prompting a snap for the pup to pick up the discarded chain, scurry back underfoot and aid in lifting the incapacitated brother to his feet.

“Do you think the daiyoukai’s words are true,” the boy drawled. The low-bass of his voice was much lower as he plied secret discussion with his elder sister. 

Easy to do as she aided him in the limp back to the hut.

“ _Lord_ Sesshomaru,” the blonde corrected, “You should get accustomed to calling him by the correct title now.”

“Whatever, it is of no matter to me as I am seemingly no matter to him.”

Oda released a sigh, one fraught with exasperation, a near understanding of why the lord’s boot had met her brother’s chest. She too yearned to do such a thing on occasions. “I cannot be certain if his words are true, but it is very much worth having faith," the half-demoness retorted, ignoring his cheek.

“You cannot be bitter at a decision he has not even given yet,” she continued, “Besides, we must stay on his benevolent side.”

“ _Fuck_ him,” he hissed. 

Oda sighed again. Yet, the emotion of her exhale was not frustration with her brother’s proposed insolence. It was for the unknown, for she had no true answer for the concerns of her brother nor her own.

“ _Odette_ , do...you think the Persian has located her?” The boy bit at his lip, voice a rung lower than last, “Do you think _he_ made her disappear?”

The siblings steadying grip on each other tightened.

“Have faith with me, and pray that _he_ has not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for feedback & kudos y'all!


	7. Prodromal

_Your Excellence,_

_I apologize for the brevity of this correspondence, but I intend it finds you and your ward well._

_Words cannot express my joy in hearing you and your petite beauty have confirmed to join us in our majestic court of the Southern Lands in the season of the Cherry Blossoms. I very much look forward to discussing her penchant for foreign literature._

_With this poem, may we look forward to eternal camaraderie between West and South, youkai and human, Nihon and Nanban, and of course the possibility of your Rin-chan and I._

Your Majesty

Will reign a thousand times eight thousand years,

’Til pebbles

Be mighty boulders,

All overgrown with moss.

_Your friend,_

_Sumitada no Saikaidō_

* * *

Once in his existence, he believed compassion was assuredly for the fragile, a tactic of subterfuge and manipulation of easily-crumbled minds to fit the needs of weak beings.

Even the current day, Sesshomaru was still not convinced that compassion was _not_ yet a by-product of manipulation. He did not have the capacity for such folly.

However, there was always room for pity in the daiyoukai’s being.

What other sentiment other than _pity_ could exist to him for such a situation, what else prompted him to vaguely scan the trees below, his nose barely oriented to pick up the strange botanical scent of the demoness. 

With not even an inkling of personal scent detected, he knew he had delved out enough clemency for the day, and listlessly continued his flight towards the proverbial castle in the sky. 

The Lord of the Western Lands possessed much more _applicable_ sentiments to utilize in addressing the situation at hand. Such as the definite displeasure of spoiled plans, re-stirred vehemence in his quest.

These sentiments stewed underneath the cool demeanor, until he found planked wood under foot, and stood dangerously close to the dais of the private reception chambers of the Lady of the Western Lands. 

Besides, the screened walls of his childhood residence were no stranger to his barrage of irascible complaints and scathing ire.

“ _Mother,_ ” the daiyoukai seethed, a temperamental tone several decibels above his normative voice. 

“The _fucking_ Edí demoness that _you_ recommended, is unaccounted for.”

His mother scarcely glanced up at her irate pup, lounging in her usual position along her imported Chinese sofa. This time with a strange volume of assorted scrolls, bound by leather. A Western book, no doubt.

“ _—_ Mother.”

Blasé amber eyes looked up to equally gold eyes, blinking in the feigned innocence of an un-listening, vaguely unconcerned woman.

“Yes, my son?”

”Has the demoness returned here?”

The silver-haired demoness tapped a finger against her lip, brow raised at just why this concerned her son’s attention.

“Now why would that vassal matter right now,” she drawled, a jocund tone playing on her lips.

“I hope you are not seeking her _other_ services.”

The Lord of the Western Lands timed a sigh with the closure of his eyes, rising two clawed fingers to massage a temple. The enticing urge to bristle at his mother broiled underneath, even more so at detecting the smirk on her lips.

Inukimi had always found her son’s temper to be amusing, simply a diverse manifestation of his father’s relentless passion. 

_And_ _Gods, did that demon general know passion._

Plus, the cross look on her son’s face reminded her of the absolutely _precious_ pup storming around the grounds nearly a few centuries earlier.

“You do not even listen to your only son’s dilemma,” his complaint sounded less of a whine than a simple statement, delivered with every scruple of annoyance on his tongue. 

The haughty demoness shrugged, a thud from the closing book accentuating the spiritless gesture.

“Oh, I do indeed hear you,” she sighed, “—but I haven’t seen the demoness of your complaints.”

Inukimi understood the subtext of the look he cast her. She sighed again. “She briefly returned on the day you saw her in my courtyard, but then she was off for her pups.”

“Did she make mention of alternative plans?”

The lounging demoness snorted, shifting long legs around to a seated position. “Do I _appear_ to be her personal valet with knowledge of her daily plans?” Her usual cascade of derisive humor lightened only at the annoyance on _her_ pup’s face.

“No, my son, off into the sunset she went,” she shrugged, punctuated by an effortless wave of her hand towards the door. 

“ _Hm_ ,” he further furrowed his brow, “Her half-breeds all report she has not visited them in four days.”

“Ah, so you _have_ met the hanyous —“

The casually throned woman shifted her pale cheek against an outstretched palm, releasing a baited exhale — the nearest her demeanor would inch towards empathy.

“We can employ a few _okuri-inu_ to trail her scent. But if she is missing, there is nothing you or I can do about that,” she hummed, “Yet what of her children? A shame to leave behind such pups—“

“—They are certainly _not_ the young pups you posit them as,” the young Lord eyed his mother, cutting through the quite... _lenient_ words of his mother. 

He did not understand the softness in his mother’s tone, these words suspiciously void of her usual caustic sardonicism. Perhap, the communal cry of motherhood had inclined her to such sympathies?

His compassion was surely not as pointed.

“They are a dirty and uncivilized bunch,” he sniffed, glancing at the healing gashes in both his left forearm and kimono sleeve.

A derelict chuckle escaped the demoness’ lips, a _tsk_ escaping her teeth as she reached out to examine such gash wounds. The insinuation that one of the brood — _half bloods at that_ — had dared to cause such miniscule injury to the skin, was no doubt a grave insult to the prideful young Lord.

“Well, _well,_ they were quite well-behaved for this Inukimi,” she sniggered, amusement quickly morphing into her usual provocation, “And clean, fresh off arrival.”

“ _I_ was going to mention such a most unnatural blend of youkai and ningen blood,” Sesshomaru raised a finger to scratch his chin, contemplating on the three figures of the morning. 

While he often publicly camouflaged any personal sentiments, he could not bury his own intrigue of the inu-hanyous. Besides his half-brother, he had a rare opportunity to encounter other half bloods originating from his race, nonetheless from a rare, ancient breed of his species. He understood the human race came in different breeds too, promulgating varying physicalities in the blend of human and inuyoukai blood.

“Where did the demoness procure such human males to give her that brood?”

“Oh, Tafsut-san had told me so long ago,” she waved her hand, scrutinizing her son’s thirst for more information he _knew_ she was privy to.

“The demoness remembered meeting Father _and_ you mentioned meeting the boy as a suckling,” he bristled, certainly in little spirits for his mother’s puckish behavior.

“Certainly you remember more.”

“So observant, my son is,” she cooed, before pulling the information from the shallows of her mind.

“I recall the boy’s father was from just North of our lands. A silly, but handsome samurai under their last Lord.”

Sesshomaru suppressed a snort. Portions of the Northern lands were the most tumultuous of all the lands, enduring wars for leadership and governance between youkai, human and deities alike, tendering poor relations between the species.

The humans of such Northern lands were aggressive in nature, possessing such misplaced hostility for previous supernatural overlords and antagonizers. He almost wondered how the bronze demoness seduced a creature of that nature; however, he found confirmation in knowing such weak human blood was in the boy’s mixture. 

“And to think the demoness proposed that I train him,” he sneered, an anticlimactic reveal of the female’s intentions to his mother. 

His deliberations of whether his mother would understand his position were realized when she responded with a half-amused snort.

“Now, now,” Inukimi began, “I cannot fault her for recognizing her pup requires much more guidance and skill with his yōki.”

“Male _Edí_ do not inherit the full potential of their mothers’ powers, and his father was a simple human of a defeated regime,” he stated flatly, prompting the woman to shrug and examine her claws.

“Not every being has the fortuity of good parentage—”

“—Such as a broodmare who does not choose well,” he retorted, his contempt for the demoness and her choices clear on tongue. 

It was the demoness’ substandard choices that left him in his current predicament: without governess and tutor, and deciding on the fate of three brats.

“Well, I believe the sire of the puppy t’was a robust Persian, or perhaps a Mongol and Turk,” she continued.

“In some tinge of relation to the human emperor Kublai Khan — she never failed to mention such.”

Passive nods to convey his disinterest in the brood were betrayed by an _hm_ from the young Lord. Just when he questioned the dark-skinned demoness’ predilection of human male flesh, her selection of a male with satisfactory lineage _for a human_ , was nearly redeeming. 

“—And those ears are just _endearing_ ,” his mother continued, triggering a sneer from her son.

No doubt his mother would be smitten with the puppy, decidedly induced by a forlorn hope for the next generation of pups in her castle. A wish that would not come to pass anytime soon.

“Either way, I did not think Tafsut-san to be as cruel to leave behind a young pup,” she sniffed, “Even _I_ did not let you far from sight at that age.”

Sesshomaru outwardly shrugged, though his thoughts of the youngest were of her smell. Days of old sweat and grime, foreboding of misery, both apprehension and rekindled anticipation and hope in his presence. 

Rin had smelled the same that day in the woods —

“—What do you plan to do with that one?”

Eyes tightened as two fine brows knitted together. 

“What do you entail with this question, mother?”

The silver demoness released a sigh, half-filled with exasperation at her son’s insistence for more clarity. “Well, surely you cannot leave _it_. That pup knows nothing outside of castle walls and comfort,” she started.

“I do not see why one could not,” the young Lord retorted. The quizzical look of apathy on her son’s face brought a growl to the throned demoness’ throat.

“Because puppies of that age can easily get themselves killed. _You_ would know.”

Surprise washed about the Lord’s face at the grave irascibility of his mother, prompting him to hold his tongue. 

Despite constant impatience with his mother and her biting courtly jest, her position as regent Lady and his mother contained centuries of wisdom that Sesshomaru could only respect.

Besides, she was a demoness of her word. One could not even conceive of Lady Inukimi retracting her promises, nonetheless to fellow youkai who have prostrated at her feet. 

To the Lady of the Western Lands, feudal thralldom was quite simple. Unlike her formidable former mate who earned his title and airs, she had been steeped in aristocracy from birth. She knew such an intuitive bond that existed between sovereign and vassals. Vassals had a role to serve the Lord and Lady of their land; in return, they provided protection from human and youkai alike in the lands of residence.

However, she acknowledged her son’s slow growing familiarity with the role. Even prior to his hunt for the demented spider hanyō, her son preferred his nomadicism. It was only in the last few years, he assumed his role in more than use of grandiose title. 

Yet, even centuries of existence did not seemingly impart lordly wisdom to him. Thus, it was her duty to often dole such to him.

“You are Lord of these lands,” she softened, bringing one finger up as if explicitly demonstrating her advice. 

“Demonstrate your goodwill by ensuring these hanyous are placed well. In return, these gestures present favorably on your Lordship.”

The hesitant lull and distinct hum from the young Lord quickly re-sharpened the Lady’s lack of patience with her son.

“As Lady, I will lead by example and take the pup into my care,” she glided smoothly through the proposition. 

Sesshomaru nearly chuckled at his mother’s immediate assistance for the pup, never unaware of her previously expressed heedless wants. 

“What useful courtly services would a hanyō pup even have for you,” a wry interrogation slithering from the Lord’s throat in the form of a snort. 

Instead of vexed frown and fluster at his jab at the demoness mother’s tender sentiments clouding her usual convictions, the Lady solely offered her son a smug, steely look.

“—And what useful services did _your_ adopted pup, Rin, offer for you, son?” The faux innocent cavalier of her tone was punctuated by the finger she tapped against her mouth.

The young Lord tightened his jaw, lest it hang ajar, dumbfounded — a sure sign that _he_ had been outwitted, bested by the cheeky demoness.

_Damn the woman._

He could only summon a brief _hm_ , allowing the demoness her moment of conceited triumph.

“Now, what of the boy,” Inukimi coolly transitioned to the next.

With the most vulnerable hanyō addressed, Sesshomaru balked at the thought of the other. He believed he had made himself fairly clear of his estimations of the boy. 

Yet, pride and ego still raw from the lash of motherly, judgemental disappointment, he only internalized such scathing mentions of the boy — such as, how he would much rather self-immolate than attach such a weak child to the name of _his_ stewardship.

“I will continue to think on the boy,” he breathed, tendering his mother’s previous words of appropriate authority in his role.

Satisfied, Inukimi slacked in her seat on the sofa. Yet, the smug smirk on her lips belonged to something else.

“I hope you have not forgot anything else to ask of your mother,” she cooed.

_Of course._

Between his mother’s dramatism over the youngest and his own irritation with the weak boy, the young Lord _nearly_ forgot about the other female. The one that attacked him in defense of the weakling.

“You never mentioned detail of the last one,” he drawled, imagining the third figure. 

How could he misremember the contrast of slitted black pupils and blue irises, teeth gnashing in insolence, “There are three, no?”

“ _Which_ one again?” 

Sesshomaru narrowly disliked the smirk that his mother bore. As if she had been waiting, in purposeful delay, for her son to mention this one. 

“The older female. The sole one that has gone without mention.”

“Ah, yes, the _fetching_ one,” Inukimi offered her son a light smirk, prompting a sudden vigilance in her son. 

He was not sure what expression he bore to prompt the peevish grin, thus he guarded his expression back into a look of keen indifference. 

“The man that sired her was indeed special to Tafsut-san,” the demoness sniffed through a hint of derision, no doubt a product of her little understanding in the attraction towards humans, “Her _first_ human.”

“She only spoke good things of this favored _pet_.”

“How strange of the demoness to take such a liking to a mere human male,” the words were a simple reflection as Sesshomaru scratched his chin once more. 

Both he and his mother had first hand knowledge of what odd fascinations with human pets produced. Loss of bond, lessons in the form of useless quests and weapons, and _damned_ hanyous. The lull between them emphasized that difficult truth, one that he sought to cut through with pressing the conversation.

“What breed of human was he?”

“Perhaps a German or Dutch? A traveler like Tafsut-san,” she continued with a sniff, “Very tall, with hair nearly as white as your own, no doubt furnishing the child’s unique coloring.”

His mother exhaled, a wistful sigh as she shifted her face into a fist. 

“Even _thinking_ of that brood makes me wish for the pitter patter of little paws to fill these halls again,” she sniffed, the subtext of her words certainly not unnoticed by the young Lord.

“You will have that desire fulfilled in the hanyō pup,” he replied flatly, brows knit in further suspicion of the demoness.

“This Inukimi meant pups that are of _my_ lineage and blood.”

A singular _hm_ from Sesshomaru’s throat had filled the air, perhaps not rousing enough to remove his mother’s _constant_ insinuation to provide grandchildren.

“The older female is of good age,” she cooed, prompting a deepening frown from her son, “Your pups would have excellent pedigree and beautiful coloring.”

Sesshomaru half-balked at the suggestion, forcing a glacial look into his mother’s direction for such a jest. “She is a _half-breed_ ,” he recoiled, mustering up enough disgust to be somewhat characteristic of himself. It was the very least he could do, lest he invite more derisible statements from his mother.

Inukimi could only chuckle at her son’s mechanical, almost rehearsed response. He had no real affront in his eyes nor tone. Of course, he suspected his mother sensed such antipathy in his emphasis.

“Her coloring is strange,” a plain statement tacked on to make his feigned repulsion much more plausible. “An unattractive sight.”

“So?” A pale set of black painted claws waved dismissively. “Any pups would be nearly full blooded. And regarding her coloring, well son — I did not take you as such an adept liar.”

The Lord of the Western Lands scoffed, his cadence laced with both incredulity and entertainment in his mother’s permissive attitude towards a hypothetical stain on powerful youkai blood in heirs, as well as her detection of his guile. His eyes had entertained the entirety of the young half-demoness and found her features and coloring unfamiliar, worth the intrigue and certainly not unattractive.

Nonetheless, the prospect of children with unsuitable, temporary bedmates was far from his mind, an indifference he possessed. Perhaps there was one of salience, one that _could have_ _been_ ; yet, red eyes erasing into the wind haunted him, existing as a mote of painful memory.

“—Besides, I understand the... _desires_ of males for a companion,” he heard his mother’s voice cut through, “A bed warmer if you will.”

He wasn’t nearly as particular when it concerned the _act_ of creation. Such acts possessed much more weight than the creation of new life itself, especially in his time after defeating the hanyō menace Naraku and incarnations. After forfeiting his young ward to the tutelage of the mikos three years prior, he immediately recompensed all personal time loss to the hunt. 

He efficiently spent his new found personal time mounting as many eligible demonesses as he could. Shamefully, even few human women had found themselves writhing underneath him. 

Well, it was not like he was _not_ his father’s son.

He oriented his attention back towards the murmurs of his mother.

“Before you were born —well, no this is how you were conceived. Anyway, you see your father had such an appetite in bed and would just _ravish_ m—“

A discomposed throat clearing abruptly interrupted the intimate details of his mother’s escapades, nonetheless with _his_ damn father. The very thought of the duo _in bed_ sent a sparse-experienced chill of revulsion down his spine.

“Mother, _please,_ ” he interrupted, voice barely straining to illustrate apparent discomfort with the subject matter. 

The Lady only verbalized a _tsk_ , drawing back her own barrage of memories, earmarking them to be replayed in the dark. 

“I certainly did not arrive just to hear the details of my conception nor your dalliances.”

“Well, of course you did not visit to solely make a social call of your poor graying mother.” 

“—You are being fairly melodramatic, mother.”

Another _tsk_ as the demoness loftily motioned, a dismissal of the cruelty of a son who did not inherit either parent’s indulgence in good-natured banter nor jest.

Inukimi judiciously studied her son again, distinguishing this particular knit of greyed brows as the same pout of frustration that graced his little muzzle time before.

“Well, I’m certain you did not just visit to bemoan over a missing demoness and ask about placement of her half breeds,” a droplet of sobriety inflecting the direct articulation with some motherly repose.

Sesshomaru emancipated a grunt from his chest at the very thought that he would even require the need to materialize in order to pout and opine about the demoness’ disappearance, or worse — that he had worries for the well-being of her brats.

“No, but these new circumstances now leave this Sesshomaru without a proper tutor for my ward,” the Lord huffed, gold eyes boring at the ground, in lieu of glaring down the eloped demoness of his current sour mood.

The once feral child had spent years in his Lordship’s care, grown accustomed to frolicking in their travel and in his estate, receiving luxuries of hot bath, warm bed and cool futon and pillow.

Time was the culprit, pressing upon the reigns in which he could continue extolling such benefits. Surely, he could not expect the child to spend her entire lifetime with this daiyoukai — away from her own kind and denied the opportunity for a mate and her own offspring?

Sesshomaru was not a cruel youkai — he had no plan to purposefully wrest such benefit from his ward at this moment. 

Yet, what human would demonstrate such goodwill to provide comforts to a growing young human female with no reciprocation, as the Lord of the Western Lands had? There was a growing cognizance of Rin’s growth, gleaning the impending arrival of crimson womanhood to her body.

He was surely not lacking knowledge in human ways, especially in mating; despite millenia of developing contrite customs, they too were animals in their biology, driven by the need to make pleasure and their own pups.

To the Lord of the Western Lands, it was a facile exchange: a pretty face with genteel talent and virgin womb, for security and comfort. And with the warm correspondence between the Lords, he soon hoped to place his maturing ward in a position of prestige and protection.

Yet, what the human males of urbane rank and power valued in mates — no, _wives—_ were senseless to the daiyoukai. Particularly, in how _they_ elevated simple recitation of distasteful prose and yammering away on instrument, rather than sharp rationale and strength. 

No, his Rin was _not_ a simplistic creature like the others, a bright girl who now stretched at the threshold of womanhood. She was the scholar who tutored _him_ , a heedless daiyoukai, endless sentiments. In exchange, he demonstrated to her the structure of loyalty and constancy. 

However, none of these traits, nothing he could impart were womanly poem verse _onnade_ on silk, scribbled in fine hiragana and kanji, nor the popular lingua francas of the nobles. There was only one way to impart such courtly knowledge to the girl.

“I have an audience with the port city Lord in only a few months' time,” he exasperated, “The girl knows little of the literature, art, even dance. She barely can write her name in proper kanji.”

Discontent hung on to the young lord's words, evenly dribbling from another baited sigh. Inukimi could only eye her son again. 

She had never quite possessed a comprehensive insight of such ability for youkai to form such _fervid_ attachments to humans — nonetheless of the men in her life to the chosen human females. Humans were glorified pets at best, sustenance at their most basic function.

Pets only require a full belly and bed for survival. Thus, the quest for eligible suitors for the child, Inukimi had already appraised it as a silly trifle. The child could easily find her own husband, could she not? 

However, the Lady _surmised_ , the mating behavior of humans complicated what should be a simplistic process for the girl. The human inclination to enforce monogamy was another facet the demoness did not understand. 

Instigated by their virile appetites, powerful daiyoukai regularly had two, or three mates — sometimes _all_ mates sharing bed and bodies. Access to the finery that lands and titles could permit all mates to be tolerable, even _fond_ of each other.

 _That_ she could fathom. The care to ensure the little human found a husband of generous land and rank was much more translatable to the demoness. Perhaps one of the few aspects of her son’s intensive quest to place the orphan that she did understand. 

Nevertheless, the Lady of the Western Lands endeavored to yield and provide support for her pup’s desires to support his orphan ward.

“Well, I know my son often does not want to hear my thoughts,” she trickled as if navigating ambivalent waters.

Quick, abbreviated shakes of white locks paused the throned demoness, as her son disagreed with such a statement.

“—That is not exact. I have great consideration of your insights and guidance,” turning his eyes back to his mother. 

“That is only _some_ of the time.” 

The irony of him presenting his farceur of a mother with a grating smirk — _her_ trademark — did not escape either party, prompting both son and mother to chuckle.

Yet the respiration that followed such a moment of shared amusement, indicated still-present uneasiness in the male daiyoukai’s assessment of the situation. 

"I trust Tafsut had revealed her courtly position, and the opportunity and experience it provided her children,” the Lady drawled, eliciting a nod from Sesshomaru.

There was little need to openly speak of her concubinage.

“Good. Then take the elder daughter in her stead,” the voice of the Lady of the Western Lands was almost absolute, nearing a command for her son.

Sesshomaru could not generate the scowl worthy enough to represent what he _supposed_ implicated displeasure would look on his face. Such thought would require enduring contemplation, as he told himself, preparing to intimate these sentiments to his mother. 

The logical thought of incorporating an unruly hanyo into his stewardship was undesirable. However, the thought did _not_ displease him.

“I will think on such a thought as well.”

* * *

There was no doubt in her mind that her early ancestors were adept hunters, wrenched into survival. 

Atleast before the days that humans would bring offerings of sustenance, removing the need to survive.

Perhaps near-famine prompting her to take spear to the woods, was her only salient connection to those ancient demons, the ones that preferred their dog forms and pursued prey with claws and canines.

Oda did not quite like hunting. She could faintly recall the last time they _had_ to scrap for food, was not since she was fairly small. 

Yet, the position of eldest often emplaced her as the eligible one. Even for the most detestable of tasks, it was her convictions, the sense of duty that influenced her to complete these duties. 

Besides, with her brother still recovering from the swift attack of the daiyoukai and an incapable puppy, who else would provide? Certainly not their mother. 

She could also surmise the Lord would not be of substantial aid, as warnings of his return had yet to be realized. Not that such promises had meaning — reliance on the uneasy words of men put them in this space, had it not?

Sweat pasted fine platinum whisps to her forehead, the strands darkening to the same dark taupe of furrowed brows, bitterness broiling under the warm fall sun.

Hunting was _supposed_ to be a diversion of dawdling men, unfurling across the piles of silk carpet from one too many swigs of _mey_. 

Or an early instinct, a childish trait to be chastised and stifled, after one too many dead birds had made an appearance on her mother’s pillows.

It was not supposed to be this _damn_ unfavorable either. Even with scantily detectable scent, local game had assumably discerned her intent to kill for the nourishment and appetites of three hanyous. 

The hare attached to her belt would last for about two, maybe three meals. Yet still, not be enough for a growing pup, a male on the cusp of maturity, and a young female.

Her stomach groused in protest at the mental image, the mere inkling of sharing her meager portion with the whining puppy again. Well, at the very least, less to consume entailed less for her to eviscerate, a toilsome task that provoked tedium and vexation than nausea.

And less carcasses to dispose. It would seem that even when properly disposed, the putridity of the carcasses mingled with scent of mold and age that only a dilapidated home could possess.

The taste of boiled and unsalted meat, made the task of hunting even less desirable. Yet, their relative isolation made ascertaining the location of a bazaar, maybe a village, in this strange land, with strange people and strange aversion to youkai. 

_Not as if we have coins to press into hands, anyway._

Perhaps her younger siblings were not, but _she_ was familiar enough with life as a vagrant, learning to use hands to take.

Now, she used clawed hands to forage at identified edible plants. The splotched crimson and orange of the above forest had indicated that the plentiful fruit of warmer weather had already asconded. 

So, she crouched to the ground, and ferreted through the nondescript greenery, bringing few to her face to distinguish the edibility through scent. In plucking a few edible pieces, the twisting clutch of hunger prompted her to finish the task and prioritize cleaving the hare’s meat from sinew and bone. 

A quick movement at the base of her neck contorted the engrained marking on her spine into characteristic black gelatinous liquid. With an exhale, a short carving blade was present in her right hand.

The hare’s limp body bashed against a nearby stump, splayed for the macabre act. 

For a moment, the half-demoness paused — the scent of _familiar_ yōki was pungent in the air. The blade twirled decidingly around her fingers, as the trees rustled overhead. Just in the event that her nose _did_ deceive her.

It was neither baneful sneers nor gnashing arrogance that flattered her presence. A graceful plumage of colorful feathers instead greeted her, delicately perching on a low hanging branch to her left. 

The bird-like creature narrowly cocked their head and crooned, as if to signify to their already waiting mistress that their tardiness was not an issue, as if to say _“I’m here, I’m here, stop your silly complaints”._

Oda wasted no time to begin her complaints: “Oh, so _now_ you decide to show up?” 

The beast of burden was often so untimely. First, missing in action to help defend her brother, their other master; now, conveniently missed out on the hunt. Oda half-wondered the point of possessing such a sentient, intelligent beast if they behaved more of an aloof adolescent than diligent servant. 

_Simurghs_ were such elegant, powerful and stately creatures, in their colorful plumage; blessed with the gift of such human insight, they had the capacity to carry three full grown individuals in their true form and take out armies with just one stroke of a talon. 

But _gods_ were they some slothfully, prideful creatures.

The half-demoness’ grumble was met with an unapologetic coo, one that conveyed _“Atleast, I am here to keep you company”_. 

“I could have used your eyes from the sky, or an extra set of claws,” she hissed, resuming her task. 

_“Oh, well looks like I am too late,”_ the creature cooed _, “Besides how else would you have gotten such rigorous exercise on such a beautiful day?”_

The blonde shot the creature her dirtiest look.

“You know, Zal, we could save us all of the strife, and just cook _you_ instead,” she sarcastically drawled, taking the first stab into the dead hare.

The bird-like creature squawked in indignation, unappreciative of their mistress’ jests, before resuming usual preening hauteur.

 _“I would be the best meal your rumbling little stomachs would_ never _have,”_ Zal conveyed through a short croon, _“Besides, I have been trying to locate Mistress Tafsut.”_

Oda could only wildly chuckle to herself at the absurdity of the current situation. When the feverish demoness had convulsed her from her slumber with whispers of travel, goading into these strange lands, she did not envision such. It was more palpable to see herself idly thumbing through _muraqqa_ , experimenting and comparing the sounds of her newly favored viol and more traditional _rebab_. 

Or perhaps, just even hearing faint whispers of a familiar tongue, inked hands from calligraphy, silk fabric underfoot. All things forsaken for... _this_.

 _“I have not gleaned any of your mothers’ scent from the skies, trees, nor land,”_ the creature communicated, _“—But, I have seen pools of water near the edge of—“_

The half-demoness paused for a moment, examining the blood that ran from the hares’ throat onto the woodland ground. She then ran quizzical blue eyes at the perched beast.

“Zal, what do you mean?”

The creature shook its bright plumage. _“Water? Well, mistress, it’s called a cold bath and my beak suggests you may just need it—“_

“ _No,_ Zal,” the half-demoness replied flatly, in little mood for the puckish jests of the haughty creature, “I meant about my mother. What are you implying?”

The likelihood the adept woman had fallen victim seemed less and less likely, potentially correlating with the slow evaporation of conviction and esteem in the demoness. Wherever she was, her children were not.

Seven moons had raced through the sky since they last saw her and the familiar visage of black fur trailing in the air. 

The creature paused, cocking a head, understanding what heavy words would implicate for the young woman and her kin.

_“I believe she is no longer in these lands nor on this island, Mistress.”_

Oda stared at the creature, a white-hot gaze that simmered beneath cool blue eyes. Uttering nothing, she returned to her task. Baited tongue faltered from blaspheming the demoness, wherever location she may have traversed to. 

_Gods!_ She could curse the damn woman. 

A misslip of the knife against her skin was the very coup de grace that splintered her poised façade.

“ _Fuck_!” The girlish outcry in her foreign tongue pierced the cool air, as she elevated the gashed finger to her mouth, letting her tongue lap up the rivulets of red and knead the gash.

“Your language is quite unbecoming, hanyō.”

The baritone skulked over keen ears, just nigh discernible to her own senses. The tangled mass of damp taupe coils veered towards the direction of voice, encountering unconcerned amber eyes.

How did she not hear, nonetheless _smell_ the demon? Too entrenched in her own emotional ruin, perhaps.

Zal, for all of their prideful indolence, was much more reactionary than the half-demoness, snarling as the creature flew to provide a barrier between their mistress and the strange silver youkai.

“Control your beast,” the daiyoukai intoned with a simple frown, as if confronted by a small barking dog rather than a fierce creature the size of a crane.

It only took Oda a moment longer to register the possible scenario between her winged beast and the Lord before commanding her vassal to retreat. 

“It’s fine,” she soothed towards the creature, watching the daiyoukai with mistrustful eye, “That is the daiyoukai of the lands.”

If this Lord was the unstable slaughterer that his given name suggested, his soundless approach would have been certain death for her. But instead, he seemingly sauntered through the trees and stood regally before her. 

“Lord of the Western Lands is the _appropriate_ address for this Sesshomaru,” he simply stated, needlessly interrupting the dialogue between the two pitiful creatures to provide such a correction. 

When not entrenched in combat, the half-demoness could survey a much more precise picture of him. Like his mother, she could admit he was handsome, a splendid white coloring she had rarely seen across the various lands. She made note of two fine crimson red lines contouring each cheek, as well as a vague violet crescent, partially concealed by white strands.

His height almost daunted her — she herself was regarded as tall for a woman, and short glimpses of the humans ensured she would certainly tower over some. However, it was rare that she would have to crane her face upwards towards a person. 

“Do you not greet your Lord,” he sniffed, “Or would you rather continue to gawk at him?”

Lords were not meant to be stared at and roamed over as if some curious, unidentifiable object. Depending on the mood of the Lord of the Western Lands, such an act from a vassal was chasitized as insolence at best, punished by his claws as defiance at worst.

However, he could narrowly admit that he did not dislike _this_ female trailing such interesting eyes over his form.

“Sesshomaru-sama, I was not expecting you,” she stated flatly, providing a modest nod of her muddled head as she cradled the nicked finger. 

“— _Clearly_ . Otherwise, I would not have heard such a... _profane_ tongue.”

Oda blinked at the demon lord, attempting to detect if his face was even accustomed to bearing the weight of any expression other than flat apathy. The devilish half-smirk could not possibly be that he was _amused?_

A slight internal embarrassment raised, as she half-expected to convey less astonishment between the daiyoukai’s silent approach, hearing her use such unsuitable language, or his apparent understanding of her _Dari_ tongue. 

“Well, I am honored to see your Lordship.”

The Lord of the Western Lands elevated a fine brow, his attention piqued at her considerably finer command of the language of his lands, nonetheless the usage of banal formalities. 

Listless contemplation about the brood had elicited many thoughts in the daiyoukai. Mainly negative, of course. However, he did give sparse consideration of this female’s potential knowledge. 

His mother detailed the bronze demoness’ boasting of her children and their skills; learned brats with deftness across various literary and visual arts, calligraphy, and instruments. If there were not evidence of their advantaged existence in their former lands, Sesshomaru would be inclined to denote such assertions as lies.

Atleast, there was the consternation that the female’s mother imparted lessons of the good social mores of thralldom.

The Lord waved his hand, signaling his acceptance of her narrow genuflections. “Where are your siblings? The boy and pup.”

“In the hut, my Lord,” she obediently replied.

“I see even the most foolish have adopted sense,” he imparted, as if he spoke of people who were not her siblings.

“This Sesshomaru last suggested that you not leave the hut either, hanyo.”

Oda furrowed her brow, careful not to summon the glare she hoped to present the haughty demon lord.

“Someone has to hunt and feed the others,” she retorted, words trickling fastidiously as to not aspire ire in the powerful demon lord, “— _my Lord._ ”

Sesshomaru scoffed, glancing at the bird-like creature in the tree above, carefully watching their interactions. 

“Why have a beast if it does not work on the behalf of its master?”

Oda expeditiously tossed a smug look at the creature in the tree, just before providing a mechanic response to the demon. 

“You are most right, Sesshomaru-sama,” she stated.

“Then your Lordship shall take such a useless creature out of your service,” his simple statement punctuated by a listless outstretch of his claws. 

The ember glow as the summoned his yoki only elicited a sharp squawk of indignancy from the perched creature and a yelp from the half-demoness as she bolted closer to the demon, hands gesticulating wildly.

“My Lord, no, no! I was simply being cheeky with Zal.”

 _"A good fucking ha-ha for me then, right,”_ the creature communicated in a squawk at their mistress below, narrowly eliciting a chuckle from the half-demoness before fluttering further into the treeline as the demon lord retrrated from his impending act.

Sesshomaru looked at the half-demoness wildly, slowly retracting his intent to use his poison whip on the creature. The plead reflected in the cerulean eyes indicated she did not wish for him to eliminate the pest. 

He sighed in annoyance. “Zal?”

“Yes, m’lord,” she replied, disquiet staining her tone, “Their name is Zal.”

“ _They?_ Does it not have a gender?”

The blonde shook her head. “No, _simurghs_ are neither male nor female. They simply procreate, well arise from the ashes of their fore-bearers.”

Sesshomaru scratched his chin with a long claw, glancing at the trailing colorful plumage above, before settling amber eyes back on the female. “A phoenix, then,” he mused, eyes greedy and prying for much more information.

“Similar, my Lord. This creature is native to Persia—“

“—And laziness,” the Lord half-scoffed, a sound of disgust at the thought of having a vassal as useless as the winged beast. Even Jaken and A-Un had their uses.

She gaped at him, perhaps to prevent her expression from faltering into amusement at her lord — a much wise choice.

“What other gifts have you gleaned from Persia,” the daiyoukai’s baritone filled in the lull, “Perhaps, skills?”

The blonde knitted her brow in defiance. The daiyoukai had clearly known her mother, thus exactly what skills did he believe her mother’s daughter to possess? Blue eyes stopped short of a threatening narrow as she took another step forward. “I don’t think I know what you mean, m’Lord.”

The daiyoukai simply grunted at his potential faux pas, comprehending how the subtext of his language could have been interpreted. If only he meant it as such; if he did, his inner beast simply would have confirmed by bending her over and—

“This Sesshomaru asks of your _literacy,_ ” his words prompting the half-demoness to becalm her state, “You are able to read and write, no?”

In expecting a nod, Sesshomaru slowly blinked as she earnestly brought a claw to her mouth in contemplation and spoke. 

“Oh, in _which_ language, my Lord? There are some where I can command the speaking than reading and writing, and vice versa.”

“How many tongues can you proficiently command?”

The half-demoness tapped the claw against her mouth, as blue eyes went up to the trees. 

“Uh, I would wager about thirteen, my Lord,” she trickled before settling shrinking eyes on the silver daiyoukai. “Fourteen with this new tongue.”

“When we were still in Choson, I was given a very old book in your people’s tongue, The Pillow Book,” she continued, “It aided me in learning your tongue.”

The Lord’s relative silence and singular _hm_ almost unnerved her, only opening his mouth to ask a few placed questions, most which were almost too strange of him to even ask. 

What was the concern of a daiyoukai with whether she read human poetry and literature, whether she had a favorite piece of literature, did she play instrument or make art. To Oda, her imaginings of a great demon warlord were of a gruesome brute, the armor of their tongue more suited for the art of sadism than the art of language. 

The demon lord was thoughtful in his questions. However, her expectations were not exceeded, as documented by the demon lord’s stab at the art of glib conversation. His affect remained neutral, eyes fixated downwards, as if he could penetrate and discern the truth.

Yet, she was resolute. She knew the ways of all breeds of such proud inuyoukai: incisive and brooding, irascible creatures with a penchant for vainglory, all snugly layered underneath apathy and disdain. 

Still, they could not hide the inherent agreeableness of warm amber eyes.

Throughout it all, Sesshomaru concealed a satisfied smirk at her unintentional hauteur, and resilience. His mother surely did not exaggerate the cleverness of the minx’s brood. Perhaps, he was even... _impressed_ with her repertoire.

Even if he _were_ a divulgent demon, he would still not reveal that he harbored no ill thoughts of the half-demoness. Yet.

When she expected another question about her education, the daiyoukai paused instead. 

Like her winged beast, he too cocked his head to the side and looked at her.

“What is your name, hanyō.”

“Odila,” she dutifully replied, as if a formal presentation to her Lord, “But many call me Oda, if it pleases your Lordship.”

“Oda,” he repeated as if trying to fit the contours of the name with the groove of his tongue, just before navigating back to flat affect. “Oda is a male name in this tongue.”

His eyes pivoted downward and then back up, taking in her odd garb. No doubt casts off of her sapless brother.

“Do you fancy yourself as a male?” The pointed jest dribbled from his tongue, a slight tug of lampooning in the tone, “In that case, I would wonder of your brother's gender.” His predisposition to biting assertions and taunts undoubtedly a trait gained from his mother. 

“ _No_ , my Lord,” the female responded, maintaining a deliberate look of austerity at the daiyoukai. The marked attempt to deflect irritation and dissidence with her superior merely elicited an internal smirk in the Lord. 

“In Norse, it is a woman's name. Shorter form of Odila,” she trickled, a hint of mirrored mock in her tone.

“Maybe, just perhaps, my Lord, your tongue favors quite feminine names for men? How curious.”

The daiyoukai nearly snorted at her acerbic quip, plainly containing the upsurge of informality with a hum from his throat and singular glare in her direction. In that moment, Sesshomaru realized the female was much closer than he would have preferred, but it was not as if he made concerted efforts to make such adjustments.

Besides, at this distance, his inner beast could thoroughly enjoy a greater view of two rosy brown tips peeking through a thin white chemise. 

The chemise was tucked into odd shaped cotton hakama dirtied with grime and blood — which he could only impute was that of dead animals, and _not_ womanly. A quick scan of the half-demoness revealed much more than ill-fitting male clothes and a curious body underneath. 

She was barefoot and dirtier than last time, smelling of both old and fresh kills — the latest one splayed on a stump. Damned yellow hair was wild and half curled, half undefined mess framing her shoulders and waist.

The Lord almost grimaced in repulsion at the state of the half-demoness. She certainly needed a bath.

 _And you could observe such a sight_ , a silken suggestion of his inner demon as images of the grime awashed over long legs, and pert backside.

Sesshomaru dissipated the thoughts as he turned on his heel and began to walk, a silent exit to accompany and complete such a laconic entrance.

The half-demoness used the vacancy from the daiyoukai’s eternal sneer as an opportunity to make a perplexed face. 

“Come,” he tossed over his shoulder, eventually pivoting to half-glance at the female, who shifted her face back to one of feigned neutrality. 

When she made no move to follow, the Lord scowled. “Do you purposely defy your Lord, or are you half-witted, hanyō? Call upon your beast and follow me.”

In a crack of white light, the Lord seemingly leapt and took to the air, his human-esque form no longer visible and moving much more rapidly than the half-demoness anticipated.

A quick whistle and bust of conflagration had signified the simurgh beast was descending in its true form. A leap stationed the half-demoness squarely on the beasts’ wide back. 

“Zal, do not allow that daiyoukai from your sight,” she hissed into the feathered down of the beast, her command reverberating as the beast escalated its speed.

Half-hearted words, anyway: blue eyes wildly focused on the flitting light form of the daiyoukai. The topography whisked underneath the duo, as her thighs clenched to the body of the beast. 

* * *

Just as quickly as they took to the air, the sooner talons took back to the air and bare feet touched down on the mountainous terrain surrounding a gurgling basin of water. The purling ebb and flow was a well acquainted sound, certainly one that she wished to further indulge her ears and other senses with. 

But she did not exactly fathom how the locals were able to heat the waters of this outdoor pond, evident from the vapor steam wafting from the pools? Nor was there much explanation for the saunter of the daiyoukai from the rocks.

He paced the movements of a strange, muzzled two headed beast in one hand; in between the fingers of the other, he listlessly dangled cloth, as if sullied.

In one movement, the demon lord approached her within an acceptable distance, haphazardly careening the cloth in her general direction with a sole word: “Here.”

The daiyoukai had barely looked at her, prompting the Oda to lengthen her stride and snatch the item from midair. The pads of smaller clawed fingers discerned the cloth as a large cotton textile of an impressive grade of linen; certainly a luxurious item from the Lord’s collection of vestments. 

“You need to clean yourself,” the Lord declared, as if the grime itching at her stomach had not pronounced the idea first.

Besides, she did not require the Lord to speak on the subtext of his actions. Assuredly, Oda did not evaluate herself as an imperceptive woman. No, no, the very presence of the hot water and the large towel-like cloth perturbed the young woman. However, not much more than how the expectant gaze of the Lord _incensed_ her.

Did he fancy her as some naive amusement at his mercy — an unjaded virgin in his peonage? Haplessly, the judicious restraint of her courtly etiquette had faltered from her face. She could not inhibit the furrow of her brow and tense jaw. 

“ _What?_ ” 

Sesshomaru blinked, deciding upon the kind gesture to overlook the female’s swift lack of ceremonious decorum.

“This Sesshomaru meant to bathe —”

The demon lord had rapidly ascertained the female’s growing ire at his words, perhaps designing her own intimations from his fairly unprovocative words. Perhaps, he did understand the potential impropriety of a Lord demanding a young woman — well, young _virgin_ , to bathe herself. 

“— _When_ I take leave,” he furnished, “I have no desire to watch you do so.”

The beast inside him provided much raucous laughter at the spill of those synthetic words. No, no, it _understood_ the machinations of the true desires of the Lord: to eye rivulets streaming down the back of thighs, belly and shoulder. 

The Lord released an interior growl to coax the inner beast back into the recesses of his cognition; not just before the Beast interrogated the Lord on the last time _he_ enjoyed the tepid, intimate flesh of a female.

_Perhaps the witch of Nara would appreciate another visit to her bed._

In ignoring his innermost thoughts, the Lord wordlessly produced another bundle, propelling the wad towards the ground at her feet. He gestured towards it, clearing his throat with a hum for much more clarity. 

“There are clean garments in there.” 

It was now the half-demoness’ turn to blink, blue eyes gaping, almost a compensation for the act her mouth refused to do. Another internal smirk graced the daiyoukai’s inner mind.

“I believe you are indebted to this Sesshomaru with words of gratitude,” he sneered.

“Thank you, Lord Sesshomaru,” she murmured, glancing down at the embroidered cloth in her hand, “I must ask my Lord what I did to deserve this kindness from your Lordship.”

“It is _not_ a kindness,” the daiyoukai sneered, a sedulous trickle of words, “It is simply a Lord’s obligation to manage his vassals.” 

Oda offered the Lord a singular _hm_ , as his words continued in a full throated pour.

“—Particularly, one that will frequent this Sesshomaru’s presence and that of his ward, must look presentable.”

The mere mention of a _ward_ perked the half-demoness’ ears, orienting a mystified brow towards him, an almost girlish expression of curiosity that intimated her desire to know more.

“You are to tutor my ward, a girl,” he obliged, “You will use your knowledge of human culture to educate her on language, arts and music of the courts, both near and foreign.”

“Your daughter, I presume?” She did not expect such earnest inquiry to result in the audible growl from the daiyoukai.

“Are you deaf too, hanyo?” His snarl seemed so uncharacteristic of the cool exterior, perhaps betraying much fire underneath. “This Sesshomaru spoke of a _ward_. A human girl in my care.”

He only felt satisfaction, perhaps even _excitement_ in witnessing the female faintly recoil from him; although her face remained fairly neutral, he could see past the facade. It was the quiver in her lower lip, evident dilation of pupils, the slowly dawning scent as her heart quickened, that all sent a pulse to his drowsing youkai. 

“Also, this Sesshomaru did not give you permission to question your Lordship. You are _much_ too bold, half-breed.”

He possessed half of a mind to press one more iota of amusement onto his growing satiation, his _arousal_ from her fear. He almost savored the image of her baited breath and terse jaw. Yet, he retreated after he mentally captured the fleeting look of _delicious_ submission on her face.

“This Sesshomaru will show leniency and forgive such insolence today,” he breathed, eyeing the mistrust in such clear eyes.

“I apologize,” she nodded in one exhale, “—my Lord. May I ask your Lordship what...would be my, uh—”.

Oda fumbled with her words, momentarily unsure of the Lord’s disposition. Or if vassals even received remuneration or compensation for such tedium. 

Instead, Sesshomaru nodded his head, an indifferent gesture that only conveyed he understood what she asked.

“In return, you will receive this Lord’s patronage,” he stated plainly, exerting no concerted effort to promote the apparent appeal of such labor. 

“Fresh sustenance, hot bath, and a palisade to rest your head at night and access in your time of leisure.”

Yet, even in a satisfactory answer to her inquiry, she found herself to be less beleaguered over accommodations with the Lord. She did not doubt her facilities in his estate would be as generous as the daiyoukai could scrounge up.

“May I ask your Lordship a question about my siblings and what of their fate —“

A clawed hand waved her concerns, the gesture revealing two fine red markings contrasting the calloused hands of a warrior.

“The pup will be placed with my mother, the Lady of the Western Lands. My mother has a soft spot for little ones. No doubt she will receive education and—.”

“And what of my brother? Will you still take him into your tutelage—“

An electric tremble darted down her spine at the very inkling of a grin that danced across Sesshomaru’s lips, before settling on a half-smirk.

Yet, he said nothing, solely cambering his head at a marginal angle. Solely to observe the female’s dirtied face, reading her expressions as glacial words hardened on his tongue.

“ _No_ ,” he voiced, emboldened amber orbs piercing and auditing blue eyes opposite of him, “I _never_ intended to.”

“He will not take such news well when you tell him, _my Lord_ ,” she stated flatly, disapproval and condemnation nestled so thoroughly in her inflections.

Sesshomaru intently inspected female stiffened her jaw, not quite at his denial, but rather at the sheer _fucking_ joy he possessed in dangling an undeserving opportunity away from such a toothless amateur. Nonetheless one that so boldly attacked his valet, one that reminded him of another weak half-breed just in the Miko’s village. 

The way she looked, almost startled at his thirst for humiliation and indignant at his choice, again roused his beast so. He unwittingly took a step forward. 

“This Sesshomaru will not tell him the news —“

Oda delivered him an expression of perplexion.

“— This is because _you_ will deliver the message, that he will not receive the same patronage of this Lord and Lady.”

Sesshomaru admired the glisten of affront across the female’s eyes, pupils now constricted.

“Then, _where is he to go_ , Sesshomaru-sama?”

“To my former ward. He is a taijiya in a village in the easternmost province of the Central Lands,” he tutted, raising a clawed finger to hush her unnecessary clamor, “Kohaku is his name.”

The mass of blonde hair shook from side to side, mouth opened and closed with pause, as the Lord could discern that she sparred to reach appropriate words. Of course, whilst minding her proper civilities for the Lord of the Western Lands.

At the minimum, he could appreciate her amenability. With no real words, he turned on his heel, gesturing to another bundle, entrenched in a wicker basket. “This is yours, too.”

With his back turned, he felt the half-demoness approach closer.

“My lordship, I say with all respect, I do not think I can deliver this news in good conscience,” Oda stated, punctuated by an exhale, “He needs not another abandonment. None of my siblings deserve such—”

Amber orbs listlessly peered back at the female.

“— And _why_ do you believe that, hanyo?”

“Well, he is my brother, my kin. Surely you understand —”

Oda had heard him speak of his mother with such respect. Surely, maybe just perchance, the Lordship understood the value of kinship. Yet, the amused half-smirk extended in sentiment, smearing into a nearly toothy chuckle; gold eyes did not stray from resolute blue eyes, facial expression unmoving. 

“— And, I almost _killed_ mine,” he scoffed, soaking in her unwavering expression, "So why should I care of _yours_? Is an appointment with my former ward far below his standards?"

Sesshomaru could not discern if it was that she gawked in the spirit of dread, awaiting what could amuse the stoic Lord so, or that he reveled in testing the limits of her nerve.

Or alternatively, perhaps he simply liked looking at the crystal-like color of her eyes. However, she said nothing in reply, only sinking back from her position to him.

“You will meet me in the forest directly below my mother’s castle in three days time,” he continued, hands grasping at the reigns of his beast, “My estate is not far from there. Prove your loyalty and you will see for it yourself.”

The lull between them breathed of inaction, perhaps a tinge of sulk. The taste was somehow delectable.

“Make sure the pup is bathed and donning her new garments,” the daiyoukai intoned, gesturing towards the second bundle, just before straddling the quiet beast of burden. 

“Enjoy your bath, _hanyō_.”

Oda waited for the daiyoukai to transfigure into a distant white speck over the canopy of green trees. She waited until his scent was inappreciable in the humid air next to the hot pools of water.

Then, with finality, she exonerated a breath that she scarcely even _knew_ she had been retaining. Even then, her thoughts were vacant. She could only envision orange eyes in action, alternating between the acts of scowling, flashing hot in anger, challenging, and combativity. And then in a state of inaction; drained, lifeless, dead, plucked by buzzards.

Strewing dirtied pants and chemise to the ground didn’t provide relief of these feelings, these worries, these ardent fears; nor did her slow slipping descent into the warmed water. 

Alleviation was found when her head slipped under the ripples.

* * *

For Sesshomaru, as he slipped through the trees, out of _her_ line of vision, his anticipation, his anxiousness was in witnessing pants and chemise glide from tanned skin to kiss and pool at the ground.

From his vantage point, the abandonment of silk garb revealed long, tanned legs, the curve of buttocks and the markings along her spine. Relief was found when she bobbed into the water and came back up, drenched curls of darkened gold hanging to her the top peaks of rounded backside.

 _And I thought you promised you would not watch_ , his inner Beast could only chuckle as the Lord paused to behold tan flesh. Moments later, the Lord solely chastised the roused beast, and decided to finally take leave for his journey back.

He had made no promises, only commands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! With school starting back up, I will be switching to updating this once, maybe twice a month! Thank y'all for all the feedback!


	8. The Girl Who Adores Demons

_Times and Seasons, what things are you_

_Bringing to my life ceaseless change?_

_I will lodge for ever in this hollow_

_Where Springs and Autumns unheeded pass._

— Tao-yün, 400 AD

* * *

_They had only had each other._

It was once said an ounce of blood was worth more than a pound of friendship.

Or, perhaps that was _not_ the correct parable. 

Hell, did it even matter? He was not a boy with his nose in literature like a certain female. 

No, no, he was of brain and books as a farmer would be of the blade and crossbow. If his nostrils and mouth weren’t in sore need of hydration, he would have managed a snort at the internal jest. 

He no longer found amusement in claws peeling through strange books, fangs gnashing at the recitation of courtly parables. 

He had long outgrew those days, as imminent manhood dawned on him, and he could no longer hide in furs and skirts.

Besides, who would concern themselves _that_ much to correct him, a warrior, on scholarly wisdom?

Black brows folded over tangerine eyes, as the boy could envision _one_ vexation who would do so. 

Yet, even the acidic taste of that... _colluder’s actions_ had left in his throat, could not prevent his lips from twisting into a hearty grin. 

The dampening words of the know-it-all were sorely missed in this moment. 

And then the fire lit once again, as he remembered what the betray, that _bitch_ had done and the choices she made.

* * *

Per usual, pale fingers covertly slipped around pendant strands of white tresses. 

The first time she had done this, it was a simple wandering of little hands, punctuated by girlish giggles. It was nothing more than a mechanical movement, complimentary to her thoughts of how a regal creature of battle could have _such_ incalculably smooth locks. 

In her first week or so as his ward, not long after he revived her, she had wondered if his trusted valet would be the one to groom the Lord. Seeing the imp almost perish under the daiyoukai’s foot for simply _existing_ had provided swift correction to that belief. 

Thus, her initial proximity to the Lord was not as _nearly_ so familiar as their current paradigm.

Yet, soon enough, trust and digits simultaneously grew, and the latter no longer roamed smoothed strands with such _juvenile_ intentions of amusement. 

In witnessing his scarlet lids lazily descend over golden eyes, it was not lost on her that the stoic figure disarmed and melted under _her_ touch. 

She promptly recognized it as the closest gesture of physical pleasure she could bring to her Lord. A small victory no less. 

The act morphed from game to gesture for the adolescent girl: a mere proclivity to show her Lord just how valuable her fingers were to his sentiments, his relaxation, his _pleasure_.

Well, perhaps it was still a game for Rin, a little frolic and folly to ascertain just _how far_ she could push at the boundaries of their familiarity. 

The procedures of this gamesome gesture rarely deviated over the years. The diversion started at the tips, creeping along the strands until she prodded at the warm scalp under the pads of lithe fingers. 

Sometimes, hands were synchronized with the movement of flowers, combs or cords, to freely manipulate silver locks into some style.

Her most recent press was the insistent pressure of her budding chest into his shoulder, feeling the crown of such sumptuous locks lull back into her. 

Brushes of silvery strands against her arm, clavicle, any place positioned against him. The sensation was mere _kindling_ to the growing inferno in the pit of her belly.

At least until clawed hands and a scowl had chased her away on this day.

No, it had to be this day, that persistent wandering hands —her little _game—_ was simmered by a grunt, sideways cut of gold eyes, and a clawed hand that stood to create space between them.

“Rin,” white strands shook, a first warning for her to cease such persistent rooting through such fine locks.

The second warning was one of finality, a low growl that swiveled to gracefully clutch her small wrist and return it to her lap. Yet, the sudden danger of the fierce, quick movement only provoked another familiar ignition in the pit of her belly.

“Stop _that_ ,” a statement that resembled more of a stern request than reprimand, softness punctuated by a gentle pat of the repositioned hand. 

Even the well-practiced, demanding pout of a pink lower lip went unnoticed, as the Lord rose to his feet.

Another growl, much more pronounced than the last, slipped from her Lord’s throat, preceding a rumble of barbed words. 

Yet, the unkind discourse was not in reference to _his_ Rin’s attempt to give him such beautiful braids. His bristle was haunted with murmurs of _hanyous_ , and...curse words? 

He wasn’t — vexed with her, no?

_No, no, couldn’t be._

Anyway, her Lord of the Western Lands was _much_ too genteel to use uncouth language, at least in the presence of his ward’s unsullied ears. 

Ok, well she had _certainly_ heard an utterance or two drop from snarled lips and bared fangs. However, it was not as if they were ever directed to _her_. 

And yet, the _very_ thought of those same abrasive words carelessly milling into her ears, scouring her mouth and body with obscenities...

“Lord Sesshomaru,” the imp at his feet placated, “Perhaps the damned creature is lost? You know how _they_ have little reason or sense...”

Rin stifled a laugh at the sideways cut from Lord to valet, a sharpened look that was fraught with discontent in the _faintest_ implications of such a statement.

“So you suggest that _I_ , Sesshomaru,” the daiyoukai breathed, “—purposely would select an imbecile who cannot follow directions, to tutor my ward?”

A frantic wail and stutter of pious implorations from the imp were silenced with a venomous glance, one all but absent of the verbalization to _stop talking_. 

Just when she thought it wise to expel a few snickers, the teen obediently silenced her own cutting giggles before she _too_ received a sour look from the Lord of the Western Lands.

As much as the teen failed to admit, Rin was never quite exactly discerning of what irritated her Lord. Nevertheless, the private intimations of his mind. And this instance was no different. 

Yet, it was of no matter if she _actually_ understood her Lord’s frustrations; she surely offered her complete consolation for the tardiness of the new instructor. 

The tardy wench had already made an adversary of the teen girl, in causing such upset to her Lord.

Well, okay, perhaps the sentiment of hostility would be an overvaluation.

It was not as if the tutor was obscenely late; in fact they had not arrived at this new spot, outside the prying view of the mikos’ village, much earlier. 

In fact, she could scarcely acknowledge that she herself actually knew next to nothing of what she was to expect. Sometimes even Jaken, his trusted valet, was not privy to the conversation and plans crafted in the Lord’s mind.

Regardless, the adolescent girl did a fine job in gobbling up nearly inaudible conversation between Sesshomaru-sama and the imp, catching undertone that this _tutor_ was to make her own way to their meeting spot, after deciding to spend a night in the floating castle...with a puppy? 

Rin could only shake her dark head at the nonsense, as she leaned in closer, ears attuned for new data.

* * *

_They had only had each other._

The boy always did his best to hold on to such a sentiment of blood and lineage before all. 

He avowed his entire existence to such a credo. They had long existed as a small pack, resplendent with fledgling diplomat, warrior, strategic maven, and their alpha. 

They had adopted urbane tongue and dress, seamlessly slinking into the carefully curated, debonair personas of the court. Without pretense, they dutilly fulfilled whatever role ensured survival, a simple heuristic for comfort and prosperity. 

As son of the favored dark-beauty-who-never-aged, the boy enjoyed his childhood under the syllabant coos of his mother, interjected with the occasional mischief of a tow-headed elder sister. 

_I mean, they had only had each other._

When he naturally grew, he enjoyed residence with all the other sons of the harem. 

Despite the sickly pallor of his skin — a contrast to the earthy dusk of his sire and wheat beige of his sister, it was his relative stature, his agility and quick taking-to- the-sword and gunpowder devices, that had set him apart from the other boys. 

They _marvelled_ over him, how they praised _him_.

Yet, all the external praise was nothing in comparison to the warmth of gentle teases of fur. The words of envy could not compare to the nagging hush of desert lullabies he snuck to the windows of the harem to still hear.

* * *

Again, she _almost_ felt a prickle of annoyance with her Lord. Perhaps even sulkened that _she_ was left with the task of piecing together information, as her Lord chose not to bring her much needed answers of the new educator’s personality, life and demeanor.

“Well, what do they look like? Did you find out if they like fishing,” she had asked the Lord, brown eyes raking over his countenance for even the slightest hint.

“Or maybe they prefer picking flowers. I mean, they just _have to_ like some things I like!”

Sesshomaru had only rubbed his temple with one set of claws, dark lashes daintily brushed against the high contour of marked cheekbones as he spewed a baited exhale of exasperation.

“Rin-chan, _none_ of that should be of any matter,” he had bristled, “This Sesshomaru will see that _she_ instructs you well — that is much more significant information.” 

Even with such labored warmth, her Lord’s words were dull on the teen’s ears, providing no picture nor elaboration of this, this _thing_.

Of course, the sole intricacies of this educationist unwound by Lord Sesshomaru, were simple facts. 

A female, with a youkai mother, raised in a foreign court Rin could not pronounce, and thus questioned if it was indeed a real location —

Oh yes, and of course! — this creature was _so_ well versed in many languages, arts and sciences. 

This creature — no, the _half_ -demoness courtier. The notion evoked both a snort and perplexed frown from the teen. 

Rin did not exactly carry her Lord’s prejudices nor concerns of blood quantums; as much as her Lord knew the smell of his brother, the teen saw very little difference between the two. 

His care and connection for this human — a trait he sometimes still scoffed at — made her Lord, the great demon, much like the hanyo; over time, she even believed he denounced him less and less

In her amusement of comparing the two, it was a much more startling realization in that she actually knew _very_ little of female demons and their spawn. 

Either incredibly beautiful pallid creatures, as most youkai with human-like forms were apt to have — or nightmarish beasts of sinew and ill-directed energy, like gruesome _oni_ and other _obake_. 

Even her own personal encounters with the long-gone wind demoness, and her Lord’s own mother did little to dissipate the hearsay of their barbarism and biting self-centeredness.

The thought only implicated that of a female of astringent words and indifferent demeanor, no doubt. 

But she was only _half_ , no?

Just as momentary relief was found in the fact this creature possessed only _half_ of such heritage, her brow furrowed even further as she realized she had _never encountered_ any hanyous born of a demon mother. 

Only those born of youkai fathers, all handsome males that selected the most beautiful human women. Rin was only certainly unknowing of the taste of youkai women, and the kind of kin _they_ could beget.

An electric jolt traversed her spine as she thought of the combination of such blood possibly resulting in visible horror, a beastie like Jinenji.

The mental image of the tutor further morphed into that of an uncivil, venomous, self-serving, ugly...but certainly _smart_ hanyō. 

Rin could only sigh at this caricature of her Lord’s probable selection; so indicative of the sole concerns of her Lord for just an intellectual mind.

The exhale preceded an apparent leaning slouch of her upper body against the tree, little care for the potential of wrinkles and smudges that such feckless action could cause in the _kofurisode_ she wore.

“Stop your leaning on that tree,” Jaken squawked, “Have you no respect for the new kimono our Lord gifts you — and _silk_ at that!”

“My feet are starting to ache,” she simply replied, eyeing the imp directly, a silent dare to scold her further and add more disturbance to their Lord’s increasingly sour mood.

Yet, another sharp look from Lord of the Western Lands prompted her to raise her back from the scratch of the tree, shifting her weight back onto feet captured by the stiff leather restraint of footwear. The teen closed her eyes and briefly wondered if the educated creature wore shoes, or _even_ had human feet at all. 

With eyelids closed, her mind sauntered over to remembrance of the first time she had seen the Lord’s feet, a rather anticlimactic reveal of human-like feet as they undressed for a bath once as a child.

The quiver Rin felt was not just from the chill of the autumn draft, it was prompted by very hunger to see that unmarred, pale flesh in the water again, fingers trailing the fine vellus trail on muscular legs, straight up to the long, thick appendage that teetering right between —

“Leave it to a _half-breed_ to be late! Foolish of you to make your Lordship and _kohai_ wait. Why I never —” 

The shrill admonishments from the ever-scolding Jaken were rarely, if at all welcome, and unequivocally uncelebrated by the adolescent girl. The very timbre of imp’s voice elicited a grimace on her face, as her concentrated efforts to retrieve the memory of what lay between her Lord’s thighs were interrupted. 

However, the content of the imp’s screeched words indicated something useful _for once_. 

The half-demon educator had seemingly arrived.

* * *

They _had_ only had each other.

Past tense. 

Implicating no other.

The boy scoffed, the wheeze painfully emanating from the sore part of his chest — no doubt the kind welcoming present from the regional daiyoukai. 

The scoff-turned-cough had slithered through his chest, with one more squeeze of pain through chapped lips. Endless trees, and no fresh water source in sight.

Acceptance and luck was never their fortune, was it?

Indelicate murmuration of a _si’lah_ , and her brood of strange children with their strange colorings and eyes, and the youngest one that never went a day since birth without a covering on her head.

They only had each other. 

In the bloodied ruination of those _others_ — those fucking filthy outsiders, it was _his_ pack that licked their filth from god knows whose hands.

They only _had_. 

Of the initial four, one had abandoned three; then with empty silver laden promises, one followed _her_ whore mother’s footsteps, prompting two to leave one. 

_For the pup’s sake, for the sake of a safe and_ good _life_ — was that not how she framed it? In that moment, he only played antagonist; an automatic sneer at the suggestion.

There was only one now, and he was barely there as well. 

His only company were vague instructions, many more miles and hollow ghouls of the past, whispering fastidiously in the foliage surrounding him. 

He could barely make out the smell of smoke rising in the distance, perhaps not strong enough to overpower his other senses longing for droplets of water, rest or even a few grains of rice.

Acceptance was now not his fortune. Survival had long replaced that need.

When he first arrived, he had not noticed that the whispers did not encompass the usual apprehensions that strange ginger-orange eyes could elicit. 

Perhaps the residents had greater concern for how every single lurch forward stained the ground with droplets of fresh blood. 

His feet, so accustomed to be bound in silk and downy leather, had finally made acquaintance with the days-old reality of traversing miles on foot.

Or perhaps, it was compassion for how the defiant roar of his stomach muffled the dull utterance of the demon slayer’s name from parched cracked lips. 

How was he to truly know, anyway? He simply stalked the pour of smoke over yonder, practically drifting over the trees and earth to become acquainted with the scent of smoked meat.

In a world of brutish cruelty and apostitatic _betrayers_ , perhaps he did not expect such generosity from the villagers. He certainly was not to question it, as it included some rice and unidentified, stogy, but digestible meat. 

And he certainly was not one to turn down the sweet ardor of warm wine.

“Are...you...full?”

“Yes, thank you kindly,” he replied gingerly, maintaining his carefully trained, noble mannerisms of a gentleman, contradicted by the rumination of food in his mouth.

Kazuo could only produce an internal snort at the exaggerated gestures accompanying the words, as he had quickly ascertained the language of these lands in less than a week’s time. 

However, he knew that any explanations for this quest, for the slayer to come forward would make little sense to them. Well, his words had made little sense, as he partially disremembered this foreign tongue in his hungered stupor.

These villagers sat wide-eyed at his floating command of their tongue, perhaps an attempt to ascertain the connection between such urbane speech, dirtied appearance and injured gait.

Yet, a sole discerning eye watched over his every action, even the outreach of a manicured hand to place his cup on the ground. The suspicion emanated from the squint of childish eyes and upturn of a freckled nose — a boy, not much older than he.

Many of the villagers had presented their curiosity and questions within the confines of delicate presses and hesitant whispers.

Not this one. The discerning spirit sat with a raised brow and pursed lip, poised to present his skepticisms.

“From _where_ did you come from again?”

If hunger and need for respite had not overpowered his ego, Kazuo may have been inclined to feel slighted by the insult of his visible peer questioning him.

“South of here,” a relatively vague answer for a relatively unpleasant stranger. 

“—And what made you flee?”

Ginger eyes flashed with indignation at the words. If his peer could not see the animus, he would surely hear it. 

“ _Flee_ ? I left on my own volition, _kisama_ —”

The words seemed effective, as the edge of brown eyes softened, indicative of his soft nature. Or perhaps in awe of the cosmopolitan stranger’s curious bout of petulance.

“My apologies. _Sumimasen_ ,” the boy ventured, a slight bow to his head, “I only wondered what, or _who_ would send you on such a foot journey.”

“I was not sent,” Kazuo bristled, a snip that laid just short of an warranted acidic response. But the boy had been trained well, favoring the small sip of the warm sake instead of more speech. 

Instead, he allowed the lull between their conversation to articulate sentiments.

The half-demon boy could only leave mum words on the rim of the round earthware at his lips. 

He had not much choice, but to go, to survive.

_Unlike others._

* * *

“You are _late_ , hanyō.” 

The low drawl of the Lord’s statement was neither subtle nor soft. Rather, it was an acidic spite, plaited into the often flat mode of expression from the daiyoukai.

Brown eyes clambered through the scene in front of her, pausing as she noticed the daunting height of her Lord had directly concealed much more than her eyes could see from her height. 

The childish portion of her mind wished to rush forward, and fill her eyes with the full sight of the being. 

Yet, the esteemed new growth of maturity — this new found sophistication that _her_ Lord praised in his delightful ward — kept her from such a heedless gesture.

Instead, she stood expectantly in her spot a few meters away, simmering under the ingratitude of relying on overhearing the conversation.

“Do not make me regret handing a _half-breed_ this opportunity,” he continued, cutting words punctuated by a simple gesture for the imp to move towards the undulating leather pouches of a large multicolored bird creature. 

Rin raised a brow at the venom in her Lord’s simple words, prodding at the adolescent girl’s mild bewilderment. Not only did she not foresee the Lord agreeing with his valet’s thoughts, but to use _that_ tone?

She could only surmise that whatever prompted the use of barbed words, had to be justified. Her sweet, kind Lord was _never_ callous without good reason, right?

No, no, he was fair and generous, was he not? The teen deepened her frown at the feminine figure for whatever imagined slight against her Lord. Still, she recoiled slightly, her ears had never had to endure _this_ kind of flagellation from the Lord.

“You are not a deaf-mute, girl. Locate your tongue, lest this Sesshomaru finishes contemplating removing you from this position.” 

However, the response from the figure was only in the form of a distinctively feminine hum garbled from a soft throat and _swish_ of silk.

“I hope you can accept both my apologies and appreciation, my Lord,” the feminine voice was a kittenish hollow, a low silky tone that asserted some sorts of polished resolve, with just a slight impression of foreign accent navigating the language of her Lord’s lands. 

“I spent much more time than I had expected in preparing the papers and ink that Jaken-san was so... _gracious_ to secure.”

Rin discerned a quick nod from the female had sent gold eyes darting towards leather satchels attached to the obedient beast of burden. 

Labored grunts of displeasure and drudgery filled the air, as the imp unloaded only one of the satchels, revealing neatly bounded papered chronicles and burettes of sloshing black ink — a sight Rin grimaced at. 

Well, Lord Sesshomaru didn’t quite exaggerate that this hanyo would be teaching things from arts and _books_.

“Perhaps, I over-prepared—”

“—Well, _you don’t say_ ,” Jaken bleated, slamming down what appeared to be a voluminous book, bound in a dark shine with glimmers of gold carved into it.

Rin could only glean the profile of her Lord as possessing displeasure with the imp’s gripes, allowing her to steal a quickened glance at the ill-fitting white and blue fabric of the female’s garb, before the white locks obscured her view again.

“I can only once again thank your Lordship for such patience with me,” the female soothed, a glossy, full-bodied decant of dribbling into the teen’s ears. Certainly, a voice and tone prepared in the courts of nobles, “I have been looking forward to the opportunity of our first meeting—” 

“Who would not? This opportunity is a substantial rise above the station of most,” the daiyoukai sniffed, a gesture bountiful in his faithlessness in the female’s politesse. 

“—Well, I don’t doubt your judgement, Lord Sesshomaru,” the silky-toned young woman continued, “But not every person is just offered such an honor, no?”

Internally, Rin released a scoff. How _dare_ the female beast reflect back her Lord’s statement with such, such— ! She did not have the exact words for such bold language, nor for the feelings they stirred in her stomach.

But, the lulled silence from the daiyoukai — who only released a definitive scowl — was rightfully interpreted by the teen in remaining skeptical of this cheeky woman. 

Rin could only think how damned _silly_ it was for the female to believe it time to challenge such Lordly words and thoughts.

Yet, despite the skeptical frown Rin bore, the lull and sway of the hanyo’s spoken velvet...well, it unconsciously lured her into the warm snare of this female’s disposition. 

She seemed... _kind_. Another collection of meek steps forward fully revealed the face behind such a tone.

Chocolate orbs navigated over the form with the realization that what stood before her was no disfigured half-breed, nor cold unmoving beauty. 

Instead, Rin’s vision was greeted with a rather tall, warm-colored young woman. Awestruck, her eyes drank in the sight in front of her, waiting to fully devour the taste of such an appearance before deciding on what words to spit up.

Rin had first noticed the female’s pert slim nose punctured by a small silver jewel on one side, and a dusting of small freckles across the bridge. Chocolate eyes completed a slow clamber over pronounced cheekbones and full, dusty rose lips pouting in wait. This landscape of fine inviting features was stretched over a palette of pale yellow ochre skin. 

Yet, it was the color of upturned eyes that elicited an almost inaudible gasp from the petite teen. She didn’t think she had ever seen such a color, an unending gradient between blue, green and gray, like the _seihakuji_ porcelain statues that littered the rooms of her Lord’s estate. It was only in the elliptic shape of the black pupils in the center, in which Rin recalled the young woman’s heritage.

The distraction of such an odd coloring had almost prompted the adolescent girl to discount the youkai blood in her veins. The crack of full lips, as they listlessly drew open and close in spoken exchange with the Lord, had vaguely divulged pointed canine teeth.

“—Rin, were you listening?” The familiar baritone drawl from no other than the Lord of the Western Lands, had instructed widened brown eyes to draw from their inspection of the half-demoness and attune to the conversation that had been taking place.

“I, uhm...what did you say?”

Her apparent confusion elicited a slight chuckle from the woman, and a subsequent rose-color to the teen's cheeks.

“Greet your _senpai_ ,” Sesshomaru gestured with a brief nod in the direction of the female. 

A graceful sweep of the Lord’s feet to the side had revealed more of the half-demoness, as she plunked into a genuflection.

“Oh! H-hello,” Rin unbosomed, watching as the young woman reciprocated the light nod and curtsy. 

As soon as she had spoken, the teen immediately felt a bile scorch at the base of her throat. As hard as she attempted to inflect a lady in the making, the calm, mature persona of her imaginations did not spill on her tongue.

Instead, Rin could not understand why _for the love of the gods_ she remained the wide-eyed girl-child in looks and speech; an obvious contrast to the more womanly form she raked over.

 _Pfth_ \- the half-demoness could not be quite _that_ old. She only looked a year or two younger than Kagome-chan? 

Okay, well, it wasn’t like she _exactly_ knew how hanyous aged: it was never apparent if they took on the longevity and lifespan of their human or demon parent, or perhaps some footing in between. 

Either way, the half-demoness only appeared to have narrowly come of age, perhaps just gaining her own footing over the ridge from girlhood to womanhood, one mountain in which Rin herself struggled to navigate. 

“It is nice to finally meet you, _kohai_ ,” the half-demoness cooed, taking a step towards the short adolescent, almost having to bend over to properly greet the girl at eye-level. 

In her sweep forward, Rin took the time to scan over the female just _one last time_.

Or so she told herself.

The foreign visage of the female was solidified in the way she wore somewhat outdated garb, a simple white kosode with an accompanying blue silk _uchigi_ as an overcoat and blade stashed into her obi; underneath the kosode, she could discern white hakama. 

A peculiar relief dribbled over the adolescent girl’s shoulders in seeing that the refined half-demoness was swathed in cast-offs, rather than new finery. Only apparent evidence of the limits of Sesshomaru-sama’s generosity. 

No, her Lord would not give this _new_ female the _same_ kind of treatment reserved for his Rin, such as new clothes...would he? Fears were immediately soothed in the stretch of used silk across her new _kohai_ ’s back.

Blue eyes shifted back towards the demon lord on her left, a supplicating glance accompanying decorous words to the Demon Lord. 

“My lord, could Rin and I take a seat?”

A skeptical _hm_ preceded a near-silent intimation of two clawed fingers, gesturing over to a larger tree in the distance with only _one_ cushion being placed by a panting Jaken. No doubt, the singular cushion was for the young prestigious ward, not her tutor.

“You have already wasted valuable time for my ward. And now mine,” the daiyoukai bristled, “Go sit.”

The somber jingle that accompanied a slight head movement had alerted Rin to the small gold hoops that lined around the shell of the female’s slightly pointed ears. 

“Right away, my Lord.”

Both Rin and the half-demoness had looked if they expected the daiyoukai to simply take to the air without his words. Yet, he still stood there, towering over both teen and young woman.

“This Sesshomaru will hear of whatever you place into my ward’s ear — be it knowledge or foolishness, _halfbreed_.” 

He needed not to gesture towards the vassal imp for the young woman to understand his clear intentions.

Despite the slash of cynicism from the Lord of the Western Lands, the teen curiously watched the half-demoness plunk into a poised bow, another jingle accentuating the slight bend of her head before shifting a soft smile towards the teen. 

As if she simply... _ignored_ him? 

Following a glare, the Lord finally turned on his heel and took the air — not before barking an order for his vassal to participate in obedient observance and meddlesome interference, if need be.

To insult to injury, Rin had noticed the mannerisms of the demoness slightly subsided; her back no longer as erect, clawed fingers unlaced from their folded tangle at her navel. 

_The absolute damned cheek._

Parts within Rin’s being was unreasonably appalled by the woman’s contrived behavior, perhaps more surprised at her gall to endure Lord Sesshomaru’s stated mistrust. 

Not many lasted against the daiyoukai’s verbal knicks and cuts, as evidenced by the often present scowls, frowns and even testy words that the residents of Kaede’s hut had when he visited. 

Okay, Lord Sesshomaru wasn’t always as _considerate_ to others in his movement. Just last week he _did_ call Kaede’s hut...what did he say again? 

Something about an outhouse...for the sick? Solely because a harmless spider had trawled over his boot. Her Lord had paid attention to her tears last time at killing the innocent creature, and didn’t so cruelly step on it this time.

Thus, perhaps, some other part of Rin slowly simmered with admiration at the half-demoness’ ability to either indulge in flippant ignorance or courtly flattery of the Lord.

The humble gestures and speech of the half demoness were nearly hollow, and Rin had to look into those piercing eyes for emotion. The teen only witnessed the young woman’s eyes glaze over with tedium with her Lord, and — what Rin could childishly hope was genuine — eagerness as blue orbs turned to her.

“Shall we then, kohai?”

A cohesive response barely emanated from the teen when two clawed fingers wriggled and arced into the hook of her own smaller pale fingers. 

_Thump._

“W-wha—”

The half-demoness had taken _her_ hand into hers: loosely linked fingers prompted a slow pull forward, one that was neither domineering nor violent. Just a simple enticement that goaded the adolescent girl to place foot one in front of the other, trailing the friction of silk around the swing of shapely hips. 

While half-demoness assumed the position of forerunner towards the tree, Rin scanned the young woman one last time, willing herself to _not_ trail the body of the woman. 

Although the loose, lapis-colored _uchigi_ swirled around her as she ventured towards the tree, the sight of curves were still visible in the tightly cinched kosode. 

_Thump._

Why _was it beating so loudly?_ As if the internal, wild bewilderment she had for these unanticipated palpitations, would silence them. The gesture of grabbing her hand itself was not _even_ special. Just groomed claws caressing the flesh of her palm. 

_So why did it make her insides unfreeze and run freely?_

Rounded hips swaying in movement elicited a quite _shameful_ fascination in the adolescent girl. It was not quite the same marveling ache she felt in thought of the Lord, but it was a certain indelicate curiosity she possessed. 

An interest to simply _know_ what experiences life would entail in having a petite waist slope into womanly hips, and support heavy bosom.

If only she had such curves, she would explore them thoroughly, preparing the altar for his blessing. 

_Then_ would the light in her Lord’s eyes convert into unrestricted pleasure. 

“—Are you feeling okay, Rin? Your heart rate is... _well_ , it’s moving quite fast,” the young woman’s observation proved to be a flustering impingement, as Rin _nearly_ forgot the half-demoness likely possessed enhanced senses.

Rin was always quite careful about doing anything to significantly change her heartbeat and scent around her Lord. 

The thought of one more keen nose prying into her innermost feelings? 

Rin’s face burned.

“N-no! I’m fine, really,” she garbled, trying to conceal such a probing question with a defined plop into the cushion on the ground, “It’s just, uhm...uh, hot! Yes, just so hot.”

_Whew. Valiant save._

“ _Oh?_ — well, it seems chilly to me,” the demoness raised a brow; her seating was much more gracious as she slowly let the silk of her garb meet grass, “But I am also not familiar with the weather of this land.”

A quick rustle of clawed hands in a purse, held by her brocade belt, elicited a folded fan. “Here you go,” the fan pressed into soft hands, allowing Rin to get a look at the claws that grappled her hand towards the tree. 

Well groomed, clean and rather short. Her hands had no markings either.

But what struck Rin was not that a youkai woman possessed some grooming skills — not that it was a rarity anyway — but rather her soft words of her unfamiliarity with the land. 

She knew she was foreign-born, accent, coloring (and of course previous knowledge from her Lord) had alerted her to that. 

But, yet the numerous questions pressed at her curiosity, prompting the girl to gnaw at her tongue. 

She knew the daiyoukai did not always appreciate her many, many questions; the tell was his pause in their conversation, closed eyes as if he needed all his yoki to produce an answer absent of exasperation and ire. 

Would this half-youkai need the same?

Perhaps the young woman recognized the countenance of a curious child, and relented.

“You’re free to ask me any question, Rin-kohai,” she shrugged, “I don’t bite.”

The snark of _“...unlike others”_ was better left unsaid.

“Senpai, f-forgive me for being bold—“

“Good thing I don’t mind bold, kohai.”

The teen still gnawed at her tongue.

“Rin, you _are_ allowed to be curious here. That is what I am here for. Now I command you to ask away.” A brief flash of blunted white canines almost startled the adolescent. When was the last time she even saw a youkai, hanyo or not, bear a full teeth _smile_? Even the hanyo Inuyasha possessed that same gruff, demonic resolve of his brother and rarely smiled.

“—You are not from here, no?”

“You’re correct,” she cooed, amusement spread between two full dusky-rose lips, “I am not. But I _do_ have a feeling you already knew that.”

“W-well yeah, your yellow hair is not... c _ommon_ here,” Rin trickled, hoping her choice of words would not irritate the hanyo any less than her chocolate brown eyes flickering to the beige waves on her head.

“ _And_ Lord Sesshomaru may have mentioned you weren’t.”

Rin expelled a breath as the latter statement elicited a chuckle from the young woman, noticing the delicate trail that a clawed hand towards one of the leather satchels to her right.

“Ah, of course, I thought the Lord would tell you _just_ enough about me,” the half-demoness baited, both brown and blue eyes now shifting to the bounded book she covertly slipped from the satchel.

It seemed that ‘just enough’ turned out to surely fail in satiating Rin's curiosity. She paused for a moment, examining the nondescript leather sitting squarely under the fingers of the young woman. 

While the cover of the book seemed to be simple leather, it was decorated in gold thread, revealing embossed curls and flecks of an unfamiliar script to the eye of a ningen teenager. 

“Also, yellow hair is called _blond,_ in one of my father’s tongues,” the young woman divulged, smoothing the silk over-robe over her feet, “I was told I very much take after him.”

“So, you are a _buh-lund_ ,” Rin trickled, in her first lesson from the yellow haired, no _blonde_ young woman. A porcelain-colored nose wrinkled at the sound of the word, her mouth grasping at the shapes needed to say such an odd and ugly foreign word. 

Yet even her butchering of an already gored, rough language, elicited a grin from the demoness.

“ _Yes!_ You _are_ a fast learner indeed,” she crooned, her hand gingerly opening the leather bound book, as canines danced in the glim of sunlight through the leaves.

“Feh! What kind of gibberish are you teaching Lord Sesshomaru’s ward?” 

The very sight of green skin hobbling towards the duo dispelled the genial air. The squawk never failed in its’ instantaneous effort to kindle a fiery frown on Rin’s face. 

“Were you both _gossiping_ ? — Do I have to tell the Lord two _children_ spent the entire tenure of his absence gossiping!” Even, honeyed words of supplication and denial from the half-demoness clearly fell on deaf ears. 

Rin could only roll her eyes at the imp. He was always just so... _irksome_! Usually, she surely could count on the Lord’s swift corporal punishments to protect her from the little youkai’s barrage of complaints. 

But now that the daiyoukai had left to attend to some vague mention of business, Rin and her yellow-haired company could only await further vilification with a raised brow.

Unlike the yellow one, at least Rin didn’t have to bite her tongue in her responses.

“ _Hmph!_ I am _trying_ to learn,” the teen retorted, “How am I s’posed to do that when you barge in here accusing us of dumb things, _Jaken_."

“You cheeky little girl! I should tell the Lord — “

“—Go ahead and tell him! You’ll be the one with a boot mark on your face, not I.”

“Why you! —”

“Well, we _just_ were about to begin, Jaken-san,” a delicate, but timely trickle from the half-demoness. As amusing it was to witness the four feet of youkai and barely five feet of girlish bravada in a squirmish, the blonde knew _one_ of them had to act as the adult. Even if that was barely herself.

“We just had a few simple words to spare before diving into this,” she continued, a tap on the hardbound cover to punctuate her intentions.

“Well, your mouth isn’t here to spare words that are not found in between the pages of those _heavy_ books that _I_ so valiantly transported.”

Oda glanced over at the lounging phoenix demon Zal, wondering if they had heard such a delightful statement in which Jaken bore the labor of transporting books over miles, not the beast of burden.

 _“The imp is_ such _a bad liar,”_ the bird-like demon squawked, the words only making coherent sense to its’ mistress a few feet away, _“You should just kill him at this point, love.”_

Oda covertly cut her eyes at the phoenix creature. 

_“Or...not. Pity that the Great Dog Demon_ almost _caved_ _Master Kazuo’s skinny chest in, all in defense of the honor of that...thing.”_

“—And _I_ am the most thankful for your kindness in undertaking such a task,” the half-demoness purred, promptly ignoring the telepathic communication of her beast.

“Surely not thankful enough, considering I was the one who fetched you these clothes.”

_And they don’t bloody fit. Yet here we are, wishing for a pat on the back._

The half-demoness smiled once again.

“I thank you for that too, Jaken-sama. And yet...”

The bulbous eyes of the imp narrowed, a clear challenge from one vassal to another. “And yet _what_ , halfbreed?”

“And yet, I don’t believe you have been thanked properly for _all_ your hard work,” the half-demoness sniffed, blue eyes impassive as jaundiced eyes rounded in the affirmed and recognized the truth of such words. 

“Well, I, uh,” the imp was clearly wedged in between his own incredulity and need to retort such a sentiment. 

The half-demoness had recognized this was a sore contention for the vassal, being in his role as a thankless workhorse, mule and infrequent child care.

However, Rin suppressed a frown. _Thanked...properly?_ Was the hanyo mistaken? 

The sudden reorientation of pale blue eyes from the imp on to the teen, only amassed on her mound of confusion.

“Rin, would you say Jaken-san is of much value to you and our Lord, no?” 

Naturally, the teen balked at the hasty praise of the imp, as emphasized by the disconcertion begging to twist and contort her lips into a grimace. 

Once the initial fast climb of her heart has settled at the sudden friendly touch, the sensation of pointed claws perching over her own han had prompted the teen to re-examine such blue eyes. They did not bear sympathy, nor genuine concern for the plight of the undersympathied imp.

Instead, Rin identified a strange spirit in the young woman’s narrowed pupils, some rogue rascality that tugged at her full lips.

_Why that clever woman —_

“Oh _yes_ , Jaken-san,” the raven-haired adolescent supplied, umber eyes brimming with the most syrupy sound she could scrounge in her throat. 

“I may not say it often enough, but _the Lord_ and I think you are so —”

Much to the amusement of the two females, the impassioned cries of the imp cut their performance short, as they found the small youkai supplicating at the seated adolescents’ feet. 

“Oh, it _is_ an unbelievable honor of this vassal to serve the Lord — and well, Rin is just his ward, but still an extension of him and, and to hear such words —”

The blonde cleared her throat, dampening the mirth of such animated theatrics from the imp. “The honor of such responsibility must be awfully tiring. Perhaps, you’d enjoy a few minutes to yourself.”

“— To myself?”

“Yes, of course,” the young woman cooed, “A moment to relax, walk around.”

The imp eyed the duo, a rivulet of skepticism pouring from his throat. “And what would you two plan to do in my absence?”

Oda allowed a singular _hm_ to drip from her mouth, a brow raised as she rapped a claw on the leather cover of the book. The solemn swear of dutiful education need not be said.

Instead, the blonde leaned in and whispered. “We will be sure to keep an eye out for the Lord.”

“Fine, yes! I will take a short walk. But you both _better_ be speaking about the lesson before I return.”

As the green imp waddled through the trees, the duo exchanged a glance; the teen could not stop a grin from spreading across her pale face, admiration of the young woman for expelling such a pest.

“Senpai, you are _brilliant_.”

“You don’t have to call me that,” whisper slithered past canines that glimmered in the sunlight, “Just call me Oda.”

* * *

“ _Big brother_ , what brings you here again this morning!— hey, wh—where’s Rin-chan?”

The sound, the very reverberations from his brother’s time-traveling mate had grated against his eardrums, particularly at her wide-eyed elation to... _greet_ him. It was nearly the same routine each time.

Rather than unbolting to address the questions of the miko, Sesshomaru had presented a displeased contortion on his face instead. He found himself _continually_ encountering this noncompliance towards using his proper verbiage.

“You _know_ my preferred address, Kagome.”

He would even prefer if the woman addressed him by his name, without the deference of titles and gestures. Yet, she insisted on this, this insistent reminder that they were bound by a common tie.

The Lord could not quite configure what vexed him more — the reminder that he was indeed her brash, half-breed lover’s brother, or that her sniveling incompetence was now family through this blood connection.

“She is with her new tutor,” Sesshomaru drawled, “And I am here to see my brother.” 

His keen observance of the miko’s face had provided slight victory; a mere glimpse of the indignancy that had flashed across it, had wrested an unempathetic simper from his lips.

“ _Oh_ ,” a dejected sound that came from the short woman, “I hope she is having a good time then.” 

Seemingly those were the only words his bothersome sister-in-law could conjure, no doubt still reeling from the recent forfeiture of her role.

“A good time? I would have you know she is there to _learn_ ,” the Lord scoffed, no doubt suppressing his need to tell the miko that such colloquial ‘good times’ were reason alone as to why she was no longer the girl’s tutor.

However, the daiyoukai could sense that his stated words were effective enough, a momentary sour glower from the miko as she excused herself to fetch the silver haired hanyo. 

It was not long before he could hear the squabble of the couple.

“Why didn’t you tell him I’m busy?— ”

“— Laying face down because _you_ drank too much with Miroku, isn’t busy!”

“Woman, why are you _yelling_? I have a fucking headache —”

Despite his amusement in hearing chastising words directed towards the half-breed nuisance, the dawn of impatience soon replaced smug pleasure; this alone prompted the Lord to follow the twist of sliding doors, until familiar silver coated ears were within sight.

Sesshomaru nearly snorted at the misery of the hanyo sprawled on futon, the odor of nauseating regurgitate and sake poised over the hanyo like a cloud.

“Sesshomaru, I...thought you would wait,” the miko trickled, darting dark eyes between the two blood relatives. 

Expectantly, no words were imparted to soothe the miko’s nervous nature. Besides, she needed little address and acknowledgement to quietly slip from the room. 

It would seem that enough time and distance had passed to at least scab over the puncture wounds from their rivalry. But such protective scabs could still effortlessly be flayed and peeled away. 

A surly, almost child-like glower from the still wine-afflicted hanyo further reiterated the sentiment.

“What the _fucking_ hell do you want,” Inuyasha groused, hand trailing back over his eyes to block out the little light of the late morning trailing through the open door.

Ill-tempered words were ineffective in raising the ire of the Lord, instead inducing the elevation of a fine brow. 

“My initial want, is for you to learn and use more appropriate greetings,” he sniffed, glancing downwards at the useless figure in red. 

Although he did not _commonly_ use such foul language, it too required time for Sesshomaru to understand human pleasantries, and perhaps even longer to incorporate them into his repertoire of language. 

He assumed his younger brother possessed similar deficits; apparent in his gruff, unrefined speech. While he would be inclined to believe it was an inherited trait from their sire, the late Lord of the West was remarked for his genial nature. A hospitable, _friendly_ dog.

Evidently not an attribute afforded to those in the Great Dog Demon’s lineage.

“Get up, Inuyasha,” a flat statement spouted from the elder, “This Sesshomaru requires a discussion with you.”

“ _I_ ,” the younger sibling retorted, indignation growing at the use of such formalities, “Normal beings say _I_.”

Sesshomaru could only chortle at the mere suggestion, a farce for the ineloquent half-breed to lecture _him_ —a daiyoukai raised in the aristocracy such a pure bloodline could represent— on how to speak.

“Well, _I_ have an opportunity for you,” the first-born started, gold eyes fixating on the unsophisticated movements, shifting the more junior sibling from belly to supine position.

“No thanks,” Inuyasha groaned, taking a few approximations to what appeared to be some productive maneuver, an attempt to sit up followed by a successful one, “Gods, my head is pounding.”

“A price paid for over-indulging in sake with that libertine,” the daiyoukai bristled at the interjection, “And I did not say right at this moment, hany— _Inuyasha_.”

“ _Tuh!_ — then tell me,” Despite a quite drunken delay, the half-demon finally peered up at the tall youkai that hovered above him. “And we had _umeshu_ too.”

Sesshomaru listlessly observed the gaunt pallor of his brother’s face, purple skin under gold eyes and mussed white strands; a half-smirk threatening to emerge and sabotage his stoic uninvolvement as the announcement poured from his lips.

“I have someone, a potential ward to take into your tutelage.”

The announcement only elicited a grimace on the half-demon’s face, dark brows knit in irritation at his momentary attempt to decode why the first-born even had such vast vocabulary.

“ _Someone? Tutelage?_ Why...can’t you just speak plainly,” Inuyasha griped. 

A _hm_ reverberated in the chamber of the daiyoukai’s throat, accompanying a passive chin-stroke with two claws, just before drawing them out to examine them for any trace of grime.

“I will use simple words your simple mind can understand,” Sesshomaru retorted, “Train. I have someone for you to train.”

A snort punctured the air.

“Feh, first off, I don’t train _shit_ ,” the half-demon replied. With this sudden bolster of vigor, the half-blood brother found his footing and lumbered towards a chamberpot. “And if I was gonna, it’s not just going to be for anybody, nonetheless an unknown, vague someone.”

The elder could only wrinkle a nose as the uncouth nature of the more junior brother had now prompted the foul stench and hollow tinkle of piss to fill nostrils and ears. “Leave it to _you_ to wait until I arrive to do such filth,” a comment that only was addressed through a primitive grunt.

“—And it is a boy, on the cusp of manhood.”

“So?” Another grunt as the hanyo refastened his hakama, “There’s a lot of boys who want to be trained by me.”

It was no small feat that the tales of the half-blood and his packs’ expulsion of Naraku’s threat had reached throughout the lands. The daiyoukai had little doubt this prompted many requests for training. As the inclination to prod at his younger brother’s sole source of pride bristled at the Lord’s tongue, as he steered the conversation back to its proper discourse.

“This one is of your breed,” the daiyoukai presented his words colorlessly, the faint display of disinterest tinting them, “— a hanyo.”

“—Oh, so _that’s_ why you won’t teach him,” a brazen comment, respite with pleasure at this apparent backslide in growth from the daiyoukai, ”Old prejudices must die hard, eh?”

Sesshomaru lifted a brow at the hanyou's mirth. While his relentless hatred of Inuyasha was well known, the daiyoukai had lessened the stringency of his opinions of the mixture of such blood. He only spoke facts: they remained as weaker than their demon sire, and stronger than their human one.

“ _No_ , that is not the reason. This Sesshomaru has stately duties.”

“Then hell, teach him to be like Jaken or something.”

“A hanyo made into a useless vassal. You of all people should find that to be a demeaning use of ones’ yoki.”

The elder brother felt a sudden inclination for more knowledge on why his half-breed brother demonstrated such little care. Perhaps the hanyo possesed beliefs of survival, stemming from years of his younger self fending without guidance — and certainly not intervention from _this_ daiyoukai.

“Besides, his mother is inuyoukai. She knew our father and —”

“— She knew the old man, eh,” an unneeded intrusion from the uncouth hanyo, of course. 

Sesshomaru had undoubtedly recognized the tasteless grin that donned his brother’s face, one he saw in much more conversations of buxom ningen women. While the road to true brotherhood was paved with uneasiness, almost naturally, the two sons of Toga could so easily navigate conversations of what laid between the legs of human women. 

The irony was conveniently and purposely lost on both brothers.

“Wait, the kid’s not _his too_ right? Kami, who _hasn’t_ he rutted with?”

Sesshomaru internally snorted at the thought. The daiyoukai would rather _kill_ the whelp than share heritage with yet another annoyance.

“I would ask if you were an idiot, but the answer is apparent. I said the _mother_ of the hanyo is inuyoukai.”

No, no, not an annoyance. An idiot. The daiyoukai half-wondered if his father’s ingenue was diluted in his youngest pup.

“Whatever. You can’t blame me for jumping to that conclusion,” the hanyo snorted, arms folded into red sleeves, “You know as well as I do that the old man had his ways. A dog with a need to bury his bone.” 

“I rarely need a reminder of our debauched father and his harem of women and bastard pups—“ 

“—Hey! I’m no bastard, you —”

“Well, your ability to stand here and wax poetic about his sexual acts is a true testimony to the latter.” 

Inuyasha did little to defend himself from the usual barrage of insults. In fact, the targeted verbal attacks could only bring a sly smirk to his lips. The discomfort the elder brother showed in discussing the...dalliances of their father was always well noted.

“I was just saying. I guess the old man had his choices,” the hanyo shrugged, leaning against the fortified wall. What could he really say? The former Demon Lord of the West did make his choices, and the ashes of their fate had scattered to where they were. 

Besides, the itching discomfort of past dalliances were _not_ as exciting to discuss as the contemporary dalliances.

Over the last three years, the half-demon had come to find out more and more of the daiyoukai’s supposed _lordly_ duties. He had always presumed the elder brother subsisted only on discussions of power and building an empire; certainly, there was no room for food, sleep, defecation, nor love and libations of the flesh. 

_Human folly,_ the daiyoukai would regard such things as such.

Inuyasha found himself to be narrowly surprised in knowing the daiyoukai had taken several human women into his bed. He need not witness such things; the potent scent of fornication and plum wine was suspiciously around the daiyoukai at times.

Partially, the younger brother was perhaps relieved to know the daiyoukai had some normal appetite for life’s joys. Another part was pleased, _so_ pleased that the esteemed full-born, legitimate son of Toga was _just_ as his sire, and foolish 

“You wouldn’t know about _those_ kind of choices though, hm?” Inuyasha tossed the stoic demon a puckish grin, searching for a reaction from the daiyoukai. 

Yes, yes, the eldest son of Toga had perhaps even surpassed his father in one particular way. And the youngest son was _not_ going to let that go without mention, ever. 

Yet, the daiyoukai only raised a brow at the acidic jest. “Choices? A boy who could not choose between a dead miko and a time-traveller will antagonize _this_ Sesshomaru about choices?”

The daiyoukai managed a smirk at the fluster such simple words could cause in the haughty hanyou. Did the halfbreed believe he had some advantage over the Lord? Did he believe knowledge of the Lord’s mating patterns would shame the Lord?

Sesshomaru exhaled an internal scoff. Demons don’t contemplate on their actions; they do as they see fit, when needed. He had reached maturity, and felt the call of the season. Naturally, he would do what mature males do when surrounded by a female species in heat.

“Screw you. At least I _have_ choices.”

“ _Had_ choices, hanyo,” a silken drawl of a retort from the daiyoukai, “You chose the time-traveller already, if I am not mistaken.”

Head cocked to the side, the Demon Lord continued. “And what could ever make you think this Sesshomaru would have _none_?”

“ _Tuh!_ You mean that witch in Nara? She’s barely anything to brag about.”

The daiyoukai paused, unconsciously offering the hanyo a smirk. The hanyo brother knew such a treasure was nothing to be ashamed of.

“Perhaps you’re right, Inuyasha —” 

“When am I not? —” 

Of course, Sesshomaru believed himself to be a victor. And perhaps the witch’s victory was one of his finer accomplishments.

“—Yet, I would wager the braggadocio is in convincing a famed sorceress to leave her imperial position with haste,” the daiyoukai breathed.

The emperor, in his bastion as an ineffective non-entity, was well supported by the warring human lords. Such loyalty and support to humankind still needed to be cowed, in order to understand the immense sovereignty of the Great Dog Demon of the West. 

What greater display of fealty than to entice the greatest power of the emperor?

“—in order to make her _bed_ available to a demon lord.”

Sesshomaru pressed upon the urge to further prod at the hanyo’s easily provoked ire, yet he paused. 

The parallel between the former enchantress of the emperor so _willing_ to spread her legs for a daiyoukai, and his hanyo brother’s late noble mother was too obvious. 

Of course the pause was not born of compassion. But rather, he chose to avoid the jugular, knowing such spiteful sentiments would splatter the Lord of the Western Lands with unintentional parallels between _himself_ and his late father. 

Yet, as both brothers spent many dark skies between creamy thighs — they, the two sons of Toga, certainly both were just like their sire. An insatiable appetite for female human flesh.

The proud hanyo scoffed, though the fold of his ears read as a delicious defeat to the daiyoukai. The hanyo was faithful to his human wife, the time-traveling miko. Yet, the mere suggestion of choices, having more than _one_ — perhaps this was against nature, even for the hanyo. 

Their father had demonstrated it was not frowned upon in _their_ culture and ways to take on such bigamist desires, as long as provenance was made for the women and their offspring. 

Sesshomaru could only growl at the floating castle of his youth, replete with silks and finery, being payment for the opportunity to chase ningens.

“Ok, are we _done_ with this dick-swinging contest, Sesshomaru? Or are you gonna tell me more about this damn kid’s situation.”

The lord raised his brow, suppressing the full-bodied smirk from donning the centerfold of his lips. 

“I did not take you as so... _passionate_ about the boy’s placement.”

“I’m _not_. Just curious. How old is this kid?”

“I would wager about 150 years.”

Inuyasha snorted, a vague chuckle as he thought about the craziness those years had brought to him. 

An arrow to the heart, meeting the girl-from-the-well, defeating the deranged Naraku. He remembered that age with a strange, bittersweet fondness that only new love, triumph and the monotony could bring. 

Downy ears attuned once again the baritone drawl of the daiyoukai adjacent to him.

“—the boy’s mother came from a desert pack breed, nomadic with dark-fur and an interesting quality of yoki. She is, _was_ a good friend of my mother—”

“—Is or was? Which is it?”

“Was. Her brood still has hope that she is in hiding, but perhaps she is dead.”

“Hm. Now, _why_ would she be hiding?”

Sesshomaru paused. 

Although it was only seemingly natural (to the Lord atleast) that his brother did not inherit such intelligence as he, the first-born inuyoukai never did intimate the meaning of the often-spoken words of the hanyous. 

What could their mother _have to_ be in hiding from?

“That is of no matter to this Sesshomaru. She did not return, and left three pups in my lands. So, you will take in the boy.”

“Now, when the _hell_ did I say that? 

Sesshomaru shrugged. His words were not confirmatory questions; he spoke with finality, precise words that bore no hesitation or rumination.

“I thought the story of a motherless hanyo would surely tug at the strings of your half-human heart,” the daiyoukai finally responded, “I am much sure you enjoy your leisure time now that the calls for exterminating lesser youkai have slowed to a trickle.”

Observant, Sesshomaru knew the halfbreed had nothing better to do with his time. Sparing a few hours to relive the days of sword and fists would do the halfbreed well.

“A fine price for ensuring the lands stay safe for these ningen. And the monk has added one more to his brood. The days of languishing in plum wine and stories of your past will come to an end, yes?”

“What the hell are you trying to say? That my current purpose isn’t meaningful, or some crap like that.”

“And when did _I_ say that?”

The lull between them signaled half-hearted acceptance from the hanyo. Sesshomaru was vaguely pleased at the lack of resolve in his younger brother.

He did not expect such additional probes.

“So, why are you _really_ not taking the kid? Kagome told me you contracted a female hanyo as Rin’s tutor,” Inuyasha simply stated. Gold and amber eyes met in the lull between them, a challenge to the truth.

A growing sense of ire emanated from the daiyoukai at such a question. How dare the hanyo question his intentions.

“This Sesshomaru told you why not. And _the miko_ is finally correct about something: I took the eldest sister into my estate.”

The slowly rising curve on the lips of the hanyo further pressed at the daiyoukai’s nerve. “As a tutor.”

A lone chuckle escaped the younger brother’s mouth, as if the very implications of his meaning dribbled and pooled at the daiyoukai’s feet. 

“And they say _I’m_ like the old man.”

* * *

Attempts to steer towards the book on the ground seemed fruitless, as the young teen pressed with an unsatiated desire to keep the half-demoness speaking on herself.

When Oda had prod the teen to ask questions, she had not thought it would be this...extensive.

In such a short course of time, the girl had inquired about her hobbies, preferred colors, even former pets — as to which she had to fabricate a much more benign tale, in which _none_ of them died quickly from childish, rough-handed play.

Naturally, the act of speaking solely on herself was nearly uncomfortable for Oda. She never had to talk about herself more than she had in these new lands. Perhaps the beings of this land were just more inquisitive.

“— Oh, do you play instruments?”

“ _Mmhm_ , I trained with the _ney_ , which is a windpipe; the _santur_ ,” the blonde nodded, “But my favorite is the _viola da braccio_ , I had one imported from the Genoa port. Oh wait! —”

To Rin’s surprise, the blonde dove a hand into the satchel, eliciting yet another bound book. Yet, when she opened it, it revealed _pictures_. Brightly painted miniatures of pale figures in saturated robes, dancing and eating, playing instruments. 

One claw hovered over figures huddled in song, with one figure with a strange curved wood instrument tucked under chin. “That’s an arm _viola_.”

“Shall we look at more? There’s actually a story here.”

The finger trailed over a swirl of text, odd shapes and punctuation that seemed to drag on endlessly. Rin stopped herself from balking at the idea. Perhaps, she did understand her tutor’s reluctance to stray too far from their intended path.

Jaken had taken leave for perhaps an hour now. Although she had beguiled the little imp into providing more privacy for the duo, she certainly did not believe he would take absence for _this_ long.

But the brief intrigue on the younger teen’s face had waned; while she still remained curious of these strange books, Rin assumed this knowledge could be plucked from the blonde’s mind at any moment.

No, no. She required knowledge that could not be found in any text, but rather harvested from the lithe figure in front of her. It puzzled her so slightly as to _why_ she had insisted on producing many more inquiries of _this_ hanyo’s life.

Unlike the mikos, or the demon-slayer-turned-mother, the seated blonde possessed so many facets she had not yet witnessed, oscillating between dignant servant and seditious woman — yet all were underscored with an effortless grace.

Rin could admit she had never quite felt this _esteem_ for any other demon other than her Lord. While the devotion of her heart certainly was consigned to a silver-haired daiyoukai, the curiosity of mind was certainly now the sand-colored young woman’s domain.

“Can we...I mean, senpai, it would be nice if we could look _later_ ,” Rin countered, her brown eyes pleading, “I, uh, I want to hear more.”

Blue eyes searched inky wide-eyed pools with bewilderment.

“You really wish me to keep talking about... _myself_? I’m certainly not interesting —”

“Don’t say that! You are—w-well, senpai, you look different, but you are very...pretty.”

“As are you, kohai. But external beauty does not hold a candle to the beauty of the mind,” she cooed, a statement punctuated by the rap of fine claw on her temple. 

“Otherwise I would not be here to teach you this,” she exhaled, intimating the books that laid sprawled around them, “Do you _really_ wish we not talk about literature today?”

“Well, you _did_ say I get to choose,” the teen replied, a soft grin tugging at her lips, “Tell me about your parents, you said your father was a _bill-on-duh_.”

The blonde could only chuckle, not at her ward’s attempt, but rather her command of her title to suggest she, a servant, follow in their disobedience of the Lord’s want for education. 

“As you wish, kohai. Well, in his country — a _bone_ \- _chillingly_ cold land, the stock of humans are nothing but tall and blond,” the words were a silken drawl of intonations. 

Rin could only nod in accord, sinking into the declining symphony of the young woman’s words.

“My mother always said that he reminded her of the water. His hair was the shade of cultured pearls; his eyes, the color of brackish water.”

It was a fluid glide over each uttering, which only served to coax brown eyes into familiar territory of sociability. The half-demoness only drew back in affect, when she was assuredly satisfied with the captivation in the adolescent’s eyes.

“—And his fish lips looked as if a hook belonged in it.”

A giggle escaped pink, girlish lips, and the half-demoness looked pleased at the sweet victory of her words elicited.

“Do you miss it?”

“No, no, I didn’t actually grow up there,” words punctuated with a forced, wistful sigh, replete with feigned theatrics that evoked one more sweet giggle. The narrative of her storytelling concealed the truth that the half-demoness bore little qualms in being separated from frigid lands and repugnant people.

If they already did not live there, she would have cursed them to all burn in hell.

 _Him,_ included.

The prod of brown eyes gripped in fascination transported the blonde back to her current task: ingratiating her favor with the adolescent. If the Lord was not particularly fond of her, the little she could do was ensure the ward was. 

To Oda, it was not quite the bother. When the Lord spoke of his adopted ward, she could only shudder at the imagining of a human child raised under his cruel austerity. She certainly expected more bitch than human child.

Although Oda surmised her own human age equivalent was still a few years older than the young teen, she still felt a simplicity in navigating conversation with social equals. There was no need to dawdle in formal airs.

Yes, the sweet, simple nature felt _familiar_ , akin to a conversation with her siblings — permitting they had done nothing to invoke her cold ire. The rhythmicity of their glib conversation was pleasing to the half-demoness; reciprocating grins from the younger teen informed her she felt similar to their exchange.

“Where are _you_ from then?”

The soft curl of lips signaled Oda that the adolescent girl was less curious of the practicality of her answer, than the entertainment of the young woman’s vivid responses. 

The half-demoness could only oblige in such answers. 

“Why, I feel that I am from all over. Like wherever the blue sky has touched, my feet have as well,” the half-demoness intoned, words punctuated with a soft wave of her hand, “ _But_ I have spent over half of my life in Persia.”

“ _Purr-shuh_?”

“Yes. It is across the sea —“

“— on the Mainland?”

“Well, _pass_ the mainland of China and _Choson_ , further west.”

“Oh! That seems _so_ far, and just to come here.”

Yes. The half-demoness had told her mother _the same fucking thing_ and now —

Reflexively, Oda provided the adolescent girl with a brilliant smile. Ironically, the half-demoness could only appreciate the glib little trick that she learned from the woman of her ire. Don the mask of a smile, conceal the discomfort. The act had certainly been useful upon her first silk-bound step in the strange Persian court, and their pack had become a spectacle. 

Yet, Rin had not detected a shift in the half-demoness’ effect when she provided commentary on the odd choice to travel to these lands of all places. If _she_ were to travel, she wasn’t quite sure if the Western Lands would have been on her list.

“Well, foreigners have been traveling to and from these lands, along the road and sea in which they export silk and porcelain,” she sniffed, a small inkling of defense in her tone.

“I mean, that is how my mother ended up here once, before I was even a thought in her mind. She met Lady Inukimi’s acquaintance on that initial trip.” 

A knavish smirk crept across the young woman’s face, as she leaned into the young teen.

“She even met _someone_ you know _quite well_ when they were naught but a pup.”

Even in the rapid succession of giggles that followed, she quickly darted blue eyes over at the crowd of trees, perhaps half-expecting for the silver-haired demon to dart over with a snarl, just at the mere mention of himself or his kin.

Of course, she thought of safety much too soon.

Curious approximations to excitable words from the young teen, were swiped from the tip of her tongue by a distant low growl. And in the next moment, it seemed as if the daiyoukai had been hovering over them the entire time. 

“What are you two _prattling_ about?”

Get rid of one pest, and another one _will_ indeed appear. Characteristically soundless (and almost comical to the half-demoness), the daiyoukai had made an inaudible appearance.

“Well?”

Oda half-mused if he _too_ possessed the yoki to navigate through the dimension and planes of space. She could not use his propensity to fly as a metric of his ability; she too conserved much energy by simply walking rather than propelling herself through the gauze.

Did it matter anyway? The weeks she had spent in this place, she still gleaned little information on the yoki of this specific breed of _masshirona_ -inuyokai. 

The impudence of the Lord and Lady of the Western Lands had allowed her to quickly ascertain this breed prefered sword to spear, and certainly embodied this feudal hierarchy even among their fellow breed. Even the meddle of their own kin was put to savage tests.

And _they_ believed her breed were primitive desert dwellers.

“I was simply explaining the silk trade route to young Rin here,” Oda offered, as a clawed hand graciously patted the teen’s knee.

“And Jaken?”

“Looking for you, my lord,” Oda quipped again, seemingly unruffled despite knowing the displeasure that would follow if the truth was revealed.

A deep throated, singular _hm_ punctuated the air. The Lord had no energy to quarry with the half-demoness. Although he had believed he heard insinuations about _pups_ , he heard similar whispers of silk, Persia and other things. 

No doubt his inquisitive Rin was bombarding the girl with questions. 

Or perhaps this hanyo was a liar. An _adept_ one at that.

While he was satisfied to see the foreign books open and sprawled around the duo, the noticeable scarcity of his youkai vassal introduced the latter inkling thought into his head.

Sesshomaru looked expectantly at his ward, one incapable of telling her Lord such bold-faced dishonesty. Yet, he only saw rounded eyes fixated on the book at her feet. She could never lie to her Lord, could she?

“Rin, your lesson is over for today,” he slowly stated, “You and I can speak and play now, if you wish.” 

The silence proved to be gauche, and stumbling, as the usually adept half-demoness artlessly failed to understand the subtext of her Lord’s curt words.

“Hanyo,“ the words narrowly danced on the Lord’s tongue, almost a sing-song tease before his venom.

“Yes, m’lord.”

 _“— You_ can clean this up and return to the estate.”

Both tutor and teen glanced at the daiyoukai, before returning each others’ gaze. Yet, unresistingly, the half-demoness provided a compulsory genuflection to the daiyoukai, sweeping her dress as she rose to her feet. 

“Will I see you again?” Cloying brown eyes and pale hands grasped at the hem of fraying worn brocade of her overcoat.

“Why would you not,” the daiyoukai interrupted, a brusque push for the blonde to make her exit.

“I-I mean, Lord Sesshomaru, Oda-senpai _will_ be coming back?”

The daiyoukai narrowly avoided an unintentional snort, a mere amusement with his ward’s sudden, juxtaposing concern for _this_ creature, when he had quickly gleaned her hesitance this morning. 

He could not help but to also find amusement in the impressionability; rather this was a more acceptable and context-appropriate emotion than bewilderment at such expedited admiration. Or _worse_ — high regard for the young woman’s informative engagement with his ward.

“Well, the tutor _is_ indebted to me for the cost of that brocade and linen,” Sesshomaru indelicately cut, regardless of his ward’s furrowed brow of misunderstanding or the half demoness’ pursed lips of searing discomfort, "She could not go very far without repayment."

The daiyoukai emitted a throaty chuckle, once he perceived the confused brow on the teen. “Yes, Rin-chan, you will. Say your goodbyes.”

Oda obligated herself to not to ogle the faint upward line on the daiyoukai’s countenance.

Did the Lord just —

“Oda, senpai, you will return, yes?”

The soft whisper would be ineffective to shield from the Lord, but his smile — the half demoness still reeled from the expression on the daiyoukai. Perhaps he was in a kind mood; perhaps, a kind creature?

“Well, Rin, have we finished this... _book_ ,” the half demoness questioned. When she observed the perplexion on the young teen’s face, she leaned in to fill the child in on the intimations of her language. 

“— Or our conversation? We have so much more to explore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! This chapter was (1) a lil boring (save Rin being Rin and Inu & Sessh) to write, but crucial for world-building and (2) I was gonna post this last week but then that cliffhanger on Yashahime (I know y'all been watching!)...
> 
> Man, I want Sess/Rin to have a happy ending, so...I've already accepted that this work will be totally canon divergent in that they get a happy ending with the twins.


End file.
